Tate followed Allen out of the school gate. The sounds of students chatting and laughing filled the air, but between her and Allen, there was only silence.
She had expected him to start talking the moment they stepped out—he was the one who had asked to talk, after all. And she already had a good idea of what this conversation was going to be about.
Tate sighed internally. If he wasn't going to say anything, should she be the one to start? But how was she even supposed to begin?
The silence stretched, making the walk feel longer than it actually was. She sneaked a glance at Allen, who was staring straight ahead, his jaw tight, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked like he was deep in thought.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, Tate cleared her throat. "You wanted to talk to me?"
Allen exhaled sharply, like he had been holding his breath. "Yeah."
Another pause.
Tate raised a brow. "About what?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "About us."
Tate blinked. "About us?"
Allen nodded. "I know you know I sent Landon to talk to you. To… ask you out on my behalf."
Tate gave a small nod. "Yeah."
Allen sighed. "I'm sorry if that seemed like a cowardly move, but I didn't know how to approach you myself. I knew you only saw me as a friend."
Tate thought to herself, If only you knew I had a crush on you two years ago.
Allen continued, "I really like you, Tate. A lot. And I just… I want you to at least consider me. To see me as someone you could—"
Tate cut in gently. "I already told Landon how I feel about you, Allen. I don't really see you that way. I'm sorry."
She could see the disappointment on his face, and for a second, she felt bad. Once upon a time, he had been all she could think about. But he had come two years too late.
Tate took a breath. "Allen, you're a really great guy, and I know there are plenty of girls in school who would love to be with you. But as for me, I'm not interested in being in a relationship right now. I hope you understand."
Allen was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "I understand. And… thanks for being honest with me."
Tate relaxed a little, but then Allen added, "My feelings for you are still there. But I'll try to push them aside so they don't affect our friendship."
Tate couldn't help but think about how mature that response was. A fifteen-year-old boy handling rejection better than the adults in the shows she binge-watched with her mom. If only they could see this.
She smiled slightly. "I really appreciate that."
They were almost at her house when something crossed her mind—Landon. She remembered how he had ignored her earlier. She decided to ask.
"Allen, is Landon mad at me because of… this?"
Allen let out a small, sheepish smile. "Kinda. He's just a little hurt on my behalf that you rejected me."
Tate nearly rolled her eyes. What kind of logic is that? Landon hadn't even been the one rejected, yet he was taking it personally?
Allen must have noticed her expression because he quickly added, "Don't worry, I'll talk to him tomorrow. I'm sure he'll come around."
Tate nodded, but a part of her thought, He better come around. Otherwise, I'll cut him off like I did my so-called 'friends' before.
When they reached her house, Tate and Allen exchanged quick goodbyes before she stepped inside. The house was silent—too silent.
She made her way to the kitchen and spotted a note on the counter in her mom's handwriting.
Went with your dad to get groceries. Making my special jollof rice tonight! Gotta keep the culture alive in this household.
Tate shook her head fondly. Her mom never missed a chance to remind them of their roots, and honestly, she wasn't mad about it. Being mixed, Tate had always wanted to connect more with her African heritage—its traditions, its food, its everything. And when it came to food, her mom's jollof rice was top-tier.
Her eyes drifted to the bottom of the note, where a second message was scrawled in bold letters:
DON'T FORGET TO TAKE THE CHICKEN OUT OF THE FREEZER.
Tate groaned but hurried to do it right away—there was no way she was risking her mom's disappointment.
Besides, she needed to stay on her best behavior. If she wanted permission to hang out with Martha this weekend, she had to make sure the odds were in her favor.
After dinner, Tate's mom was in the kitchen, stacking the clean dishes.
Tate walked over, hesitating for only a moment before saying, "Hey, Mom. I want to ask you something."
Her mom, focused on arranging the spoons, replied, "Ask away."
Tate took a breath. "Can I hang out with a classmate this weekend? Her name is Martha, and she invited me."
Her mom looked up. "'Hang out'?"
Tate resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, Mom. Hang out." She made sure to keep her tone as neutral as possible.
Her mom studied her for a moment. "Do I know this Martha?"
Tate shook her head. "No."
Her mom was silent for a beat, then sighed. "Fine. You can go, but your curfew is 4 PM."
Tate opened her mouth to protest but quickly decided against it. Getting permission at all was already a win.
She suddenly remembered she still needed to tell Martha she was available, but without a phone of her own, she'd have to borrow one.
"Mom, can I use your phone to let her know? Since, you know, I don't have one?" She emphasized the last part.
Her mom shot her a knowing look but handed over the phone anyway. "Fine. But remember, your grades need to improve this year. No distractions."
Tate thought to herself that her grades were already bad without distractions, so what difference would it really make?
She took the phone and went upstairs, rummaging through her backpack until she found the note where Martha had written her number.
Dialing the number, she listened as it rang. No answer.
Her heart sank a little. Maybe Martha wasn't interested in hanging out anymore.
She tried again, and this time, Martha picked up almost immediately.
"Hello?"
"Hi, who's this?"
"It's Tate."
"Tate from 10th grade?"
Tate smiled. "Yeah."
"Oh, hey! What's good?"
"I just wanted to let you know my mom gave me permission to hang out."
"Oh, cool! Where should we meet up?"
"The shuttle bus stop?"
"Alright, sounds good. Let's meet at 11 AM."
"Cool. See you tomorrow, then."
"Tomorrow. Bye."
The call ended. Tate flopped onto her bed, grinning.
Her plan was coming together perfectly.