But then Maisey had shown up to my house, hand picked by my biology teacher to tutor me. She’d been so quiet, so studious, so shy - and for some reason that made me like her more. I wanted to draw her out, see what she was all about.
Her hair stuck out from her head, forming a lush halo around her head. Her green eyes flashed with excitement when she spoke, even if her words were quiet and measured. I hated biology, and somehow she’d made it interesting. She’d use football analogies and funny little anecdotes to help me remember things. After a few sessions with her, I was excited to spend time with her.
We spent more time laughing together than we did working, but with her help, I’d managed to bring my grades up and pass all my finals - which eventually meant I got that scholarship. I couldn't have done any of it without her.
One day we were alone in my room, and one thing led to another. I kissed her like I’d been fantasizing doing for days, and then we’d melted into each other and made love. It was the first time I’d had sex where I hadn’t felt like I didn’t really know what I was doing. It was so natural, so easy, so right.
When I found out she didn’t have a date to the prom, I asked her to go with me. I was falling for her hard.
I didn’t care what any of my friends thought about it.
Maisey wasn’t one of the cool kids.
But to me, she was better than all of them.
I’d looked forward to that night so much.
* * *
“Do you remember standing me up for prom?” I asked, staring at her back. It was a nice view. Where she was all angles and sharp turns before, she’d become curvy and feminine. Her shoulders stiffened at my mention of prom, but she still didn’t turn around.
“Standing you up? I don’t think we ever really set anything in stone, did we?” she asked, finally turning around and looking at me again.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not. Seriously, Mr. Collins, I don’t remember much from high school. It was a long time ago.”
“Not that long. For fuck’s sake…” I muttered. “Call me Jesse.”
“Right. Jesse,” she nodded. “Now, about your treatment plan…”
She rattled on and on about torn ligaments and the importance of keeping my knee active by exercising it, but I wasn’t really listening.
I was thinking back to that night so long ago. I’d never been so humiliated in my life when she’d stood me up. My friends never let me live it down. The jock of all jocks being stood up by the nerdy girl from biology class… Some of those bastards still liked to bring it up every now and then when they were particularly hell-bent on ribbing me and running low on material.
* * *
“Don’t look like she’s showing up,” Tom, the manager of the gas station said. I’d been sitting on the hood of my cherry red Ford Mustang waiting for Maisey to show up for half an hour already. The sweltering heat was punctuated by the bow tie that was practically strangling me while I waited.
Maisey had insisted I meet her at the gas station instead of picking her up at home. I’d protested, we’d argued about it, and she won. I checked my watch again before jumping back in my car and heading to her house anyway.
When I’d gotten there, I found the front door wide open and Clyde passed out on the couch. I was dying of thirst because of the heat, and after calling Maisey’s name, I went to the fridge and opened it, hoping for a bottle of water or something.
Instead, I found Maisey’s note saying she’d left. I walked into her room and saw that everything had been cleared out, except that one white dress hanging in the empty closet like a scene from a bad movie.
I’d gone to the prom alone, been crowned King and at the last minute, in Maisey’s absence, the Student Council had finally decided to make Barbara Simmons, the head cheerleader, into Prom Queen. I’d endured countless questions that I didn’t have the answers to, so I told everyone the joke was on them, that I never meant to take Maisey Jayne, of all people, to the prom.
I told them I wanted to go alone, that it was a joke all along, just to save face.
But inside? I was dying of embarrassment. The goddamned King doesn’t go to prom alone…
* * *
I’d never heard another word from Maisey, but after thinking about it for years, I’d come to the conclusion that she left for reasons that had nothing to do with me. Hell, if I lived in that shitty trailer, I’d have left too.
“Rehabilitation will be extensive and frankly, exhausting. In addition to traditional methodologies, we’ll be doing acupuncture, aquatic therapy, cold-laser therapy —,” she was still rattling on, and now I was staring back at her, studying her to see how she’d changed.