June in Los Angeles. Most people would kill to be where I am, but in the holidays, it's unbelieviably boring.
You probably think I'm extremely spoilt, but I prefer to do something more, shall we say pulse-racing, than what the average 15 year old girl likes to do.
I'm a junior thrillseeker.
I don't do really stupid things, like dive off cliffs into the sea (well not any more) or make homemade ziplines from the top of a lampost to the floor, (except for that one summer last year) but I love the feeling that there'll be a really big adrenaline rush at the end. So I do a few crazy stunts to keep my blood-to-adrenaline ratio as high as possible.
My friends all think I'm crazy, and most of the time they're right, but it's so much fun, and I intend to make my childhood as fun and adventurous as possible. Instead of stressing about how I look. So this year, I intend to do something really thrilling.
"Won't you ever give up trying to kill yourself, Di?" My best friend Stacey asks, fiddling with my short, brown hair.
"I'm not trying to kill myself. I'm simply having fun." I reply, getting very annoyed at how little she's helping.
"Having fun is going in to town, celeb-spotting, kareoke parties and sleepovers, not suicide attempts." She says, listing her favourite things to do. Personally, I don't see how walking around a bland shopping mall, waiting for hours just to see the back of someone's head, humiliating yourself by sounding like a tiny cartoon character doing an impersonation of Britney Spears or staying up for hours when you're dying to get some sleep can be classed as "fun". Also, I don't try to commit suicide. If I wanted to do that, I'd jump off that huge sign on the hills nearby.
"That's boring. Cliff diving, zipwires, tree climbing, abseiling and skydiving are proper ways to have fun."
"You've never been skydiving." Stacey reminds me, giving up fiddling with my hair, "Why don't you grow your hair long? It would suit you."
"Wait until I'm 18, Stace. You won't be able to stop me from jumping out of planes." I reply, as I'm hoping to do that for my 18th, "And you know I think it's too long already."
"If you don't kill yourself before then. Anyway, apparently Will Smith has his own recording studio in his home." She says, reading a copy of OK! over my shoulder.
"So, it would be much better if it was an indoor climbing wall." I reply, getting seriously bored.
"You will never change, will you?" She sighs.
"No chance. When we're both 70, you'll be a sweet old lady sitting quietly knitting on a porch, and I'll be a crazy old bat cliff diving in the distance."
"Yeah, the crazy part's accurate. Anyway, I promised I'd help my sister with Carly. I'll see you tomorrow." She says, getting up off my bed and stretching.
"Ok, see you tommorow." I reply, knowing how annoying a baby niece can be.
I slump back on my bed once she's left, not knowing what to do. The Will Smith climbing wall thing is still going around and around in my head. I bet he really does have a climbing wall; he's rich enough. Jayden and Willow would probably love it.
It keeps bugging me, but I can't help it. I really want to see if he does. It's illegal, but the adrenaline will keep me going for ages. I bet there's a back way in, and it'll be so exciting.
I'm going to break in and see for myself.