Here's an excerpt from one of my many potential WIPs. If you like it, vote for it in the comments. Still trying to decide where to go after Drats! Foiled Again!.
There was nothing Micki Strange couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do on a dare. He once ate a live lizard, head first, just to show his second-grade teacher he wasn’t afraid of anything. His more recent exploits were less gastro-intestinal and more aerial. Skydiving was child’s play compared with this:
“I’m not doing that,” Gunner said, his voice shaking.
Micki sighed. “You ditchin’ out again? Aren’t you getting tired of sitting in the back of the Jeep? Senior year, man!”
“Yeah!” Gunner’s fists clenched, bringing back a bit of the Gunner he used to know and love. Gunner hadn’t been quite so fearsome since his dad got in a minor car crash in afternoon rush hour a few months before.
“And you wanna go out with a bang, right?”
“Yeah!”
“So let’s do this! Are you with me?”
Silence.
“Gunman…”
“Hold on a sec. I just wasn’t ready.”
Micki’s stare didn’t even faze Gunner, who looked like he was counting the boulders on the shore way…down…there.
So Micki looked to Pete instead. “You’re with me, right?”
Pete gave him an arrogant half smirk that said he was crazy for even asking.
“Let’s do it!” Micki yelled. “For the Glory!”
“For the Glory!”
Pete and Micki roared as they ran three steps to the ledge and jumped. There was nothing but ocean and air below, and right now, it felt like the air went on forever. This was what Micki lived for. This was the gold that made everything else silver.
Absolute freedom. Absolute adrenaline. Absolute…
The school bell rang, killing the bliss of Micki’s flashback. Last weekend had been off the hook. He had to come up with some way of making this weekend even better.
He closed the black binder labeled AP Government, splashed with silver sketches of snowboards, carve-boards, and wakeboards. The inside was just as ornate, including the sketch he had just finished of Wasuchi Bluff, the highest point local cliff-divers had ever braved. He could still feel the impact of the water, like a slap on the nose—but all over his skin. The numbing cold of the waves had felt like kisses on his stunned body afterward. More tangibly, he still felt the ache of the landing in every joint and muscle as he rolled his shoulders till they cracked. But oh, had it been worth it. Just to feel alive—really alive—for those few free-falling seconds.
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