The Quintessence of Macy Jensen

I still hated Macy Jensen. At the forefront of my heart there was a block of hate for her; probably imprinted after the many years of loathing the odd girl. But deeper down, if I focused hard enough and broke to the core of my heart; I couldn’t help but love Macy Jensen as well. It was a quirky feeling but I managed to hide my love for so long; for so many years. But now, as I sit quietly with my math book on my lap and my teammates crowded around me, it’s getting harder and harder to hold back my urge.

It’s getting harder to hurt Macy, it’s getting harder to brand harsh words to her as my friends jostle from behind. The worst - by far - is ignoring the feeling at the base of my stomach, the feeling of wanting. When I pass by that girl with puffy Christmas sweaters and ripped leggings, I have to try my hardest to look away and not pull her into my chest and tell her everything will be okay. I have to turn away and occupy my mind with some blonde who’s ready to throw herself at me; or lose myself in the meaningless conversation passed between my friends adamant lips.

Or else I can’t be sure what would happen. I ponder the thought as I chew numbly on my homemade lunch consisting of a turkey sandwich and Dr.Pepper- I had to say, I was a sucker for a good can of soda. A few girls passed by our table with obviously-puffed out chest and all the guys seated around me obviously wolf-whistled their way. I just ignored the commotion and focused on the whirlwind that was ripping through my mind at the moment. Do I actually love Macy or is this some twisted game my heads playing? Or is this really the way I feel? Could I, Brett Marston, possibly have feeling for Macy Jensen, the high school’s freak show? I didn’t know, and I sure as hell wasn’t remotely ready to admit any feelings anyway, so why bother? A headache was reaching it’s way to my skull anyway.



As soon as I pushed the front door open and dropped my shoes to the ground I heard that wail I knew all to well. “Here’s your daughter Brett.” My mother looked solemn as she pushed my daughter into my open arms. I sighed as I realized the rest of the week- Wednesday, Thursday and Friday- it was my turn to watch the baby that was just a mistake. But I didn’t really look at Amelia like a mistake; she was more like a shining star that wasn’t meant to shine in this sky. But I couldn’t undo the past so I braced it head-on and watched Amelia when it was expected. I held Amelia in the crook of my elbow as I made my way up the stairs and into my room. I let my book bag thud to my floor as I placed Amelia upright on my unmade bed. She giggled as I smiled and grabbed a binder from my bag. I was planning on studying for the up-coming biology test, but I doubted I actually would study, seeing as by nine o’clock the binder would still be unopened, laying on my desk.

It was a few seconds after, as I laid with Amelia on my stomach, that my phone vibrated against my leg. This made Amelia jump which then made tears come to her orbs. I hugged her to my chest and pulled the phone to my face. I glided over a button as the screen illuminated and I saw the message that I had just received. “I think we really need to talk. Come meet me outside-Macy Jensen.” I furrowed my brows at how Macy got my number, but blew the thought away as I made my way downstairs with Amelia in my arms. “Mom, I got to go out for a bit, watch her okay?” I kissed Amelia’s forehead before I pulled on a worn-out hoodie and stepped out into the night air. I fumbled with the phone in my head, about to send a message to Macy, when I heard a faint cough near the swingsets. I pushed my phone back into my pocket as I made my way to where Macy stood. And at that moment, with her hair down her shoulders, a sweater hanging just below her stocking-clad knees, I aggressively pulled her into my chest and pressed a hungry kiss to her shaking and chapped lips.

She pulled back a few seconds later with a shocked expression and her sweater rumpled at the bottom. Her legs looked so fragile as I swept my eyes over her attire; over her attire that shouldn’t be worn on a cold night in October. It was like some unknown pheromone took hold of all my bodily senses; because in that moment she was the most attractive girl I’d ever witnessed in my entire life-and I’ve seen plenty of attractive women. It wasn’t even that I wanted aggressive sex to make me feel good, all I wanted was to have sex that meant something-that felt like a bond was shared and that we gave ourselves to one another. It was the most pressing feeling I’d ever experienced and I couldn’t do anything but look into Macy Jensen’s shadowed eyes.

“Macy, can we go somewhere else?”