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The next day at Springfield Elementary, Nelson couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done.
Not the fight — he’d had plenty of those — but who he’d fought.
Lisa Simpson.
He hadn’t meant to hit a girl, much less her. The brainy one. The one who’d tried to help him with his history paper that one time, before he got embarrassed and threw her notes in the trash. The one who, weirdly, had looked kind of... cool when she was pretending to be a boy.
He found her by the bike racks after school, her backpack hanging off one shoulder, a book already open in her hands.
“Hey, Simpson,” he said, kicking at the gravel. He was surprised how nervous she made him feel.
Lisa didn’t look up. “If you’re here to laugh about it, don’t bother. I’ve already learned my lesson about gender-based educational inequality.”
Nelson frowned. “Uh… what?”
She sighed, finally closing the book. “Never mind. What do you want, Nelson?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. The words felt heavy in his chest. “I didn’t know it was you,” he said. “When I, uh, you know. Hit you.”
Lisa’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You mean when you punched me in the stomach.”
“Yeah. That.” He shuffled his foot again. “I don’t hit girls. Not on purpose, anyway.”
She studied him, skeptical but curious. “That’s… surprisingly considerate of you.”
“I’m tryin’ to apologize here,” he said, half-grinning, half-defensive. “You’re not makin’ it easy, you know?”
“I didn’t realize it was supposed to be easy,” Lisa replied, but her tone had softened.
They stood there for a beat. The wind pushed a stray lock of hair across her face; Nelson watched her tuck it behind her ear and looked away fast. Finally, he said, “Let me make it up to you.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “How exactly do you intend to do that? Quote Nietzsche at me?”
He snorted. “Who’s that, the guy from Itchy and Scratchy?”
“There isn’t even — never mind,” Lisa rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Fine. I’ll bite. What’s your grand plan?”
“Just… come with me. Tonight. I got somethin’ to show you.”
That evening, the sun was melting into orange and purple above the town. Nelson led her up the hill behind the Kwik-E-Mart, to a little patch of grass overlooking Springfield.
“You bring all your victims here?” Lisa asked, crossing her arms, though she couldn’t help noticing how pretty the lights looked below.
“Just you,” Nelson said simply.
She blinked. “That’s… oddly sweet. In a vaguely concerning way.”
He sat down on the grass and gestured for her to do the same. “Didn’t mean to hurt you, Lisa. Really. Guess I didn’t think someone like you would do somethin’ like that — pretend to be a boy, I mean.”
Lisa looked out at the skyline. “I didn’t think I’d have to. But I wanted to be taken seriously. Turns out, people listen more when they think you’re someone else.”
Nelson was quiet for a moment. “I listen to you.”
She turned to him, surprised. “You do?”
He shrugged. “You’re smart. And... kinda nice. Even when you don’t have to be.”
Lisa felt something twist in her chest — something that wasn’t anger anymore. “Thank you,” she said softly.
They sat there in the fading light, the sounds of cars and crickets below. Nelson picked up a small pebble and flicked it into the air. “So, uh... friends?”
“Friends,” Lisa agreed, though her voice caught just a little.
Then, as if the thought had just slipped out of him, Nelson leaned over and brushed a quick, awkward kiss against her cheek.
Lisa froze. Her face went hot.
He immediately stood up, pretending to dust off his jeans. “Um… forget it. Dumb idea. I just, uh, yeah. See you at school.”
But as he turned to leave, Lisa called after him. “It wasn’t dumb.”
Nelson stopped. Looked back. She was smiling — small, shy, but incredibly real.
And from the hill above Springfield, under the orange glow of the streetlights, they both felt a little older than they were.