I want to ride it. I know I can. It is purple and shiny but scary. I watched you ride it for the past few days. You hit the green button and it came to life. It growled at you but you were not afraid. You sat on its back and laughed.

I will not be afraid. I will ride it. I will sit on its back and laugh, too. Just in case, I take you with me to ride it. It is time to be brave. I have on my puffy yellow life-jacket so if it kicks me off I will be okay. You ask me if I am ready. I just move my head up and down, I can’t say yes. Do you know I am lying? I think you do when you laugh and pat my head.

“Let’s go!” You say with a real smile. You are ready and not afraid. You pick me up and plop me down on the beast’s back. You sit down in front of me but I scream “NO!” and hop around so that I am in the front. This way when the beast gets fast I won’t fly into the water.

You laugh again and put the key in the ignition. I clench my hands onto the handles and brace myself. You ask me if I want to press the green button but I shake my head. My words are gone. You take your big hands and wrap them around the handles right next to mine. My hands look little and scared, they look the way I feel.

It is time. You press the green button and the jet-ski roars to life. The noise is so loud that you don’t hear me scream, or maybe you just pretend that you don’t hear me. Now we are out of the dock and on the lake. The water spills onto me sometimes and I think it is trying to pull me off of this thing. I wish I could just be safe in the water.

Now we are going into the open water. You squeeze that lever tighter. The beast growls just at me and leaps forward. Now we are flying! But the beast can’t fly right and it keeps slamming down on the water. You scream and I scream but yours is happy and mine is scared. I do not know how you think this is fun. I cry out but the beast is so mean that it gets louder so you do not hear me. I claw at your hands and then you realize that I am about to panic. You let go of the lever and your face looks funny as you try to not laugh. I am crying. A lot. I think you feel bad. I won’t say it but I am sorry that I am not brave.

“Why don’t you try driving Elle, it’s not that scary” you say this to me as you swallow your laughs. I know that you think I am a baby, I am not, I am seven. But I need to be brave. So I whisper, “Okay”. I put my little hands on the huge lever and squeeze just a teensy bit. The beast purrs, maybe it feels bad for scaring me. I squeeze a teensy bit more, the sound gets louder but I think it is okay, the beast is being nice. I feel better, I squeeze more and more and we begin to go fast again. Then I know I AM brave! I can do it! I scream a happy scream like you.

But I am not happy for long. Before I know it, I feel a jolt as the jet-ski rocks back and forth in a weird way. I get scared and let go of the lever. Then I get even more scared when I look down and your hands are gone! I turn around and you are gone! The beast ate my dad!!!!! He disappeared!!! I hate this beast! Then I hear a strange sound, it is your laugh. It is a mean trick that I think I hear your laugh. But then you call out my name and I turn back around. I squint my eyes and I see you back behind me in the water, you have the biggest smile on your face and you say “Nice job honey! You were going so fast you kicked me off!”

I feel relieved and bad all at the same time. I am so glad you aren’t eaten by the jet-ski, but now it is worse because I threw you off! And it is more worse now that I have to move the beast back to get you. I take it slow and squeeze the lever just a tiny bit, “C’mon, honey I’m not getting any younger!”. I do not feel bad for you though. I know that you jumped off on purpose, and now I am mad at you for being silly.

When I get to you, you climb back onto the beast and I move it back to the dock. You are still laughing a little and you tell me that next time I can try jumping off the back. I may be brave but I am not that brave.