The Quintessence of Macy Jensen

Everything was getting harder for me as days went on. It was harder to keep my secret relationship with Macy a secret, and it was even harder to bully her in school-it felt like my teeth were being pulled as I watched her hide tears. It was harder to spill lie after lie to my mother who, when I lied assumed I was out with friends, but in all actuality I was behind the old Pine tree with Macy Jensen laying her head against my chest. It was getting harder to create lies-plausible lies-that my friends would accept with a sigh and a nod of their head.

But what hurt-and was the hardest to fake-was the fact that I had to lie to Amelia, my own damn daughter, about why I couldn’t read a story from her big book of fairytales. I would watch as she cried and stomped her feet, and all I could do was hold her tight and promise her tomorrow, and then tomorrow would roll along and I would tell her the same lie again. And I knew, I comprehended fully well, that at some point all my lies would crumble and I would be left with the cold truth and I would have to admit the reasons behind the fallen lies; the reason I lied to almost everyone I cared about. And the truth wouldn’t be something that was so bad to other people, but while to me it would be like striping myself of my pride.

Monday rolled around and my eyelids hung lazily over my eyes as I threw on my clothes for the day. My day-old pants were somewhere in the heap of clothes I called my laundry and my shirt was stuffed in the back of my closet. The only thing that I was sure was washed was the green beanie I threw on as I left my room. My mother was sitting on the couch as I passed the living room to exit the house. I nodded to her quickly and didn’t wait for the small hello that would greet me a few seconds later.



I arrived at the school right as the late bell rang and I grumbled in frustration as I slammed my car door. I jogged up the cement steps with being late in mind. I skidded to a stop in front of my locker, then proceeded to hastily throw my books, and take out the binder I needed, into my locker. Finally I sat myself in desk in my first period class. The teacher shot daggers into me as I apologized and slid into the cold chair. Then the teacher continued with the lesson at hand. I threw open my notebook and scribbled down the last bits of the scrawled handwriting on the chalkboard. I was about to ask a question right as a hand tapped against my shoulder. I turned to be meet with the green orbs of Crystal Lining; the biggest slut in our school. I smiled as she twirled her brown hair around a tanned finger.

“Yeah?” I asked after a minute of non-stop eye flirting-coming from her end of course. “There’s going to be a party tonight at my place, want to come?” In her voice was all purrs and hormones; the perfect mixture of appeal that appeals to people like me. I looked her over once before I licked my lips and responded. “Sure.”

If I only knew what a mistake one little word could be.


The first mistake I made was to not tell Macy about where I was going. Sure, I knew somewhere that she had the right to know and would be upset that I didn’t tell her-but I also knew that she wouldn’t let me come if I had told her. So I was decided on the fact that she wouldn’t know. And so here I was, sitting on the porch of Crystal’s house with a red cup of beer in my hand and the sent of sex on my body. I slammed my eyes closed as I took in a breath of night air. I wanted to forget what had just occurred less than half an hour ago, I wanted to forgot what trust I had just betrayed. I brought the cup to my lips and let it hang there for a second, my lips licking the plastic like they had liked Crystal’s skin. I cringed once again and let my head tip back and let the liquid spill and burn down my throat. Maybe I hoped it would burn away the memories; then again, maybe I just wanted to burn away myself.

Next to me a person sat, and by instinct I knew who it was. I turned to look at Crystal with her blonde hair in a messy bun and her breasts nearly falling from her tight-fitting tank top. “What?” She looked at me not with shock or anger, just-nothing. “That was fun.” She let her hand run across my exposed forearm which evoked goosebumps to spread. I shivered-maybe from the cold but likely from Crystal’s touch-and let Crystal wrap her arms around my form.

I was reluctant to stay but also reluctant to pull away. I turned my head to watch her eyes roll over my sex-crazed features. “It was.” She smiled vainly-like the enjoyment was all her doing- then let her lips crash against mine-which I didn’t pull away from. She ran her hands through my matted hair and pressed my body against her sweating one. She didn’t even shower so I could bet my fluids were still sticking to her olive-flesh. I cringed into the kiss but kept kissing nonetheless.

And at that moment all senses of responsibility flew out my mind and all I was left with was my old self-the non-caring and horny football jock. I pressed hungrily into Crystal and felt her hands roam around under the shirt I was wearing. I stood her up on shaking legs and led her in to the house and up the stairs; our kiss never broken once. The night was one of the craziest I’d ever had and it was one hell of a memory, but in the morning I knew I was going to be back to the-trying-to-change-Brett Marston-and I would regret it all with a headache and a killer hangover.

I guess I couldn’t change my ways for a girl like Macy Jensen, and if I couldn’t change for her-then I couldn’t change for anyone else.