My Happy Ending

My life’s always been a mess. Well, not always. It was great... until the doctors diagnosed my dad with terminal cancer, an incurable disease. 

When I found out that he only had a few weeks to live, I realized how much I needed him. More than anything. I was scared to be alone. Frankly, it pissed me off.

I got into numerous fights in school when he passed; I blamed everyone for his death. My teachers, my friends, even the janitor. I hated everyone and everything. When I started fights with my friends, they left. They found new friends and replaced me. It hurts like hell, but it was what I deserved. Even my girlfriend—well, ex—found someone new. Someone better. Even though I was hurt that she left me too— because I loved her... so much— I was happy for her. She found someone who treated her as she deserved. I lost hope that things would be better. I prayed day and night for someone to bring back my humanity. For someone to bring back my mom.

I never thought I’d be able to live. To have my happy ending. That was until I met the girl.

Catie Jennings. The girl who aces all her tests but never brags. The girl who’s stared at— as if she had something in her teeth— by all the boys. The girl who cheerleaders spread rumors about. The girl who doesn’t care what other people think about her. Strawberry-blond hair, green eyes. Perfectly toned skin. She was my paradise... even though we fight a ton. I wanted her. Secretly, she wanted me as well— something I found out more recently.

You might be wondering: If she’s so perfect, why didn’t you ask her out then?

Well, you see, she’s a lesbian. As in, she only likes girls. And that sucks... cause I’m a guy. You heard it right here, folks, Jack Wilder’s a guy.

Okay, enough joking around at my expense. I need to show you what I meant about her giving me my happy ending. But first, let me take you right to the beginning...

*

“Okay, class,” Ms. Rodgers announces at the beginning of class, “We’ll be starting Lesson Seven in our Creative Writing curriculum today. Is there anyone here who can tell me what your assignment was for last night?” She asks, looking around the room at the twenty-something students positioned in their desks opposite of her. 

Ms. Rodgers is a woman in her mid-twenties with raven-black hair, olive-colored skin, and a model-like body. She was standing near her desk, drinking from a sports waterbottle with the Gatorade logo on it.  

No one knew the answer to the question and therefore, no one raised their hands. No one except Catie Jennings. Someone I don’t personally know but have had a crush on— secretly of course— since the seventh grade.

Ms. Rodgers places her waterbottle back onto the desk, sighs a little as the water quenches her thirst, and looks at the girl. “Yes, Catie?” She asks, smiling. 

“The assignment we were supposed to do,” she says, looking around the room, smirking a little, and returning her gaze to the teacher, “was the study of Character Development for Novels.”

Ms. Rodgers’s smile widens as she looks over Catie’s assignment as she was speaking. 

“Well, I certainly see you’ve put your heart into writing.” She says, smiling approvingly.

Catie returns the smile and says, “Thank you, ma’am. I do like writing.” She says, a matter-of-factly.

“Well, you’ve certainly proved it.” She says, handing Catie the paper with her grade.

“An A?” She asks, looking up, surprised.

“Mhm. Good work, Catie.” She says, walking over to the rest of the class with their grades.

Show-off, I thought bitterly, glaring at Catie for a few seconds and then looking at the front of the room.

I look up as Ms. Rodgers arrives in front of my desk, looking down at me. She places the paper, quietly on my desk, all the while smiling, brightly. “Good work,” She says, walking away. 

I look down at the paper and see my grade: C-. I feel a little jealous that Catie got a higher grade than me. 

*

After school, I hear someone calling my name. “Jack! Jack! Wait up!”

I turn around and see Catie running up to me. “What do you want?” I asked, upset, “you gonna rub your test scores in my face again?”

Her smile fades. “Well, I was going to ask you something... about.... you know? The-”

“No, I don’t know, and I don’t care,” I cut her off, angrily rushing away. 

“I thought you were gonna be a nice dance partner, but I don’t dance with jerks!” She yells after me, as I skid to a halt and walk back to her.

I look at her, confused. “Wait- let me get this straight. You wanted to invite me to the prom dance?” I ask, not believing her.

“Well… yeah. I did. But now I’m not sure.” She says, finally.

“Well… um… thanks, but I don’t do dances.”

She looks up at me smiling. “Well, we can always just chat by the fruit punch.” She suggests.

“Uh… I don’t know…” I say, looking down.

“Can you please go? I wanted to go with you. I also have something to tell you.”

I look up at her again. “But I thought you were a lesbian?”

“And?” She inquires, angrily.

“And…. And I’m a guy?” I suggest, hating my lame excuse; in reality, I’m just a wimp.

She glares at me. “You are a jerk, aren’t you?” She asks; a hurt expression on her face.

“Catie, wait- I’m sorry that was- “

“Save it. I’ll just find another girl to go to the dance with since all the boys are afraid of a lesbian.”

I was left there, hating myself even more as she storms down the hall to a group of girls, presumably asking them if any of them want to dance.

I look down and see a necklace on the ground. I kneel and pick it up, thinking it’s Catie’s and planning on returning it, but when I glace at where Catie was just a minute ago, I don’t see her.

My head swivels around my surroundings, trying to find her. I see her turn a corner, wiping her tears and I run after her. “Hey, Catie!” I call after her, “Wait up! I have something of yours!”

She doesn’t turn around, but I know she hears me.

“Catie, wait! I’m sorry!” My apology was in vain because she went into her house and before she closed the blinds, she flipped me off, angrily.

Well, I guess I deserved that, I thought with a sigh, walking home with the necklace, planning on giving it to her on prom night.

*

I hear my foster mom on the phone in the kitchen when I walk inside. She seems to be arguing with someone.

I take off my shoes, close the door behind me, and walk into the kitchen as she ends her call. “Hey, sweetie.” She says, smiling, “how was school?”

“It was… strange. To say the least.”

She looks at me, concerned, noticing my expression. “What happened?” She asks, putting her hand on my shoulder.

I shake my head, “Nothing, mom. It’s okay.”

“Jack,” She says, concerned still, “is that kid bugging you again?”

“Who Trevor?”

“Yeah.”

“No, it’s not him. It’s this girl.”

“She’s bullying you?”

I shake my head again. “No one’s bullying me. I pissed her off.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I didn’t mean to. It’s been hard since my birth mom died and I accidentally told the girl that I won’t go to the prom dance with her because she’s a lesbian.”

My mom gasps. “Jack!” She exclaims.

“I know. I’m a terrible person.” I say, looking down, ashamed of my actions.

She tilts my head up so she can look into my eyes. “You’re not a terrible person, Jack. You made a mistake. Do you know where she lives?”

“Um… yeah, I do. Why?” I ask, confused.

“I’m going to drive you over there and you will apologize to her.”

“No, she won’t listen. I tried apologizing earlier and she flipped me off.”

“Well, I don’t blame her. You were mean to her.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just going to wait a few days before I tried talking to her, so she can calm down.”

“No, we’re going to go over there now,” She starts.

“But, mom!” I complain, “she hates me!”

“And you will apologize to her. Or I take your phone for a week and you won’t be able to go to the dance at all.” She finishes, giving me a stern look.

I groan in frustration. “Fine! I’ll go. But she won’t listen. I tried already.”

She ignores my last plea to avoid going and hands me my shoes. “Meet me in the car in five minutes.” She orders, walking out to the car after slipping on her no-lace shoes.

In three minutes, I’m driving towards my bittersweet hell.

*

“Do you need me to walk to the door with you?” My mom asks when we arrive at Catie’s house.

“No, mom. That’d make everything worse.” I look at her hurt expression and add, “I’m sorry. I just want to make it better myself. I don’t want to make it awkward. I want it to be more genuine.”

She nods in understanding. “Okay. Just try not to fight, okay?”

“Okay. I promise I won’t fight with her. If she yells at me or something, I’ll wait until she calms down.”

“Good,” she says, smiling, “hopefully you can work it out and maybe go to the dance together.”

“I wouldn’t push it that far. I’ll see what happens.” I say, getting out of the car.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, mom.” I smile, closing the door. I take a deep breath and walk up to her door.

I knock and wait for someone to answer. A few minutes later, Catie opens the door. “What do you want?” She demands, wiping her tears. She must’ve been crying, I thought to myself, now I feel even worse for being such a jerk to her.

“I-I just wanted to apologize for earlier. Can I come in?” I ask, looking at her, feeling bad.

She looks at the ground, tilting her foot up, nervously so she’s standing on her toes. I notice her biting her lip, slightly. “Yeah, come on in.” She says, moving over to the side, letting me in.

I smile, slightly and walk inside. “Thanks.”

She nods, closing the door behind me. She stands by the couch, self-consciously. “So, you came to apologize?” She prompts, crossing her arms.

“Yeah,” I say, nervously, “Well, I realize how big of a jerk I was. I didn’t mean to be mean and bring up your sexuality. So, I’m sorry.”

She nods, not saying anything, “You were a jerk. I just wanted to go to the dance with you and you had to make it about my sexuality,” She accuses, angrily, “Me being a lesbian doesn’t have anything to do with wanting to go to a dance with a guy. It’s not like we’re dating, you know?” She finishes.

“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

She looks at the ground, self-consciously. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry for flipping you off earlier, too.”

“Don’t be. I deserved it.” I say, looking into her eyes.

She nods in acknowledgment. “Is that all you came for?” She asks after a minute of silence.

“Yeah, it was. Again, I’m sorry, Catie.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll see you at school, I guess.”

“Same. I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

“Yeah.” She says, awkwardly.

“Well, I should go,” I say, heading to the door.

“Okay. See ya.” She says, smiling.

“See ya.”

I wave at her and slip out the door and head back to the car. “What’d she say?” My mom asks, not giving me a chance to get into the car without her asking.

I get into the car and then put my seatbelt on before answering. “We made up. I apologized for being a jerk, she apologized for flipping me off.”

She smiles. “That’s good. I’m glad it worked out.”

“Me too.” And for once, it’s true; I never wanted to hate her.

“Are you guys going to the dance together?” She asks when she starts driving.

“Not sure. We weren’t ready to talk about that yet. Maybe I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

“Good luck,” She says, smiling, “I think if you decide to spend more time together, you’d be good for each other.”

I blush, looking out the window. “Yeah, I hope so.” I almost add that I like Catie, but I restrain myself.