Ace

Ace's mom hated me. She was the first adult I had ever met who hated me for no particular reason.

I was a great student and a top athlete at my school. I never snuck out, and I was a virgin. I tutored Ace and always proof-read his papers before he handed them in. Because of me, Ace drank less and never smoked. The woman should have adored me. No matter what I tried, no matter what I did, she always looked at me with a sour smile, like she had a lemonhead in her mouth and she was trying to hide it. Maybe she knew what I would do to Ace, what we would do to each other.

After a year and a half of dating, I finally through in the towel... and our virginities. It was intensely unromantic, as most first times are I guess. We were at a drive-in in Ace's huge bronco.
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Ace's bronco was so big that I had to be boosted into it on the night of my junior prom, but I didn't mind. It was the coolest car I had ever been in. Ace's mom, and dad I suppose, made him drive a small, red Toyota truck for 6 months that all of his friends made fun of. Ace was the second boy in our class to get his driver's license, so as small and beat up as his truck was, everyone piled in.

He told his buddies for months that he was getting a bronco, and of course, everyone laughed and rolled their eyes. That never bothered Ace. He would just smile and say, "ok, whatever you say guys."

One Friday, he texted me to meet him in the school parking lot. As I walked out there, he was beaming in a big, white bronco. It was vibrating with rap music and all of the mirrors were shaking. He jumped down from the driver's side to talk to his friends about his "new ride." I laughed and shook my head as girlfriends get to do when their boyfriends act the way high school boys do. "Where's my girl?!" he yelled, even though he already saw me. He smiled and nodded his head toward his new, prized possession. I smiled back and mouthed the word, "nice."

"See ya later boys, I have to take my girl for the first ride." I ran to the trunk and threw my backpack in the back window. Ace had run around the passenger side and flung my heavy door open. I gave myself a running start toward my open door and jumped into the passenger seat and bounced once on the springy, old seat. We slammed our doors shut at the same time, and he threw the car into drive. His buddies never made fun of his car again.

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I don't remember what movie was playing at the drive-in, or what song was on the radio. I don't remember the day, the month or the time. I don't remember what I was wearing or what he said to get me into the back of the car. I remember the sleeping bag we shared, black on the outside, green and blue plaid on the inside. I remember that there was no pain, only pleasure and surprise. I remember how gentle he was, and that we both smiled the whole time. I remember feeling grown up and guilty at the exact same time. I remember feeling free. Maybe that was why Ace's mom hated me. She knew I would make him feel free and grown up. I would become a part of his life that she couldn't understand or be a part of. Maybe it was because I was the only part of his life she couldn't control. I do know that after the drive-ins, I cared a lot less about her feelings, and a lot more about Ace's new car.