If someone had told Tate at the beginning of the school year that she'd be going through heartbreak before Christmas, she would have probably thought they were messing with her. Yet here she was, nursing the hurt after Damien told her he liked Martha.
As she walked into the classroom, she spotted Martha across the room, making her way over to her with a concerned look on her face.
"Tate, are you okay?" Martha asked, worry lacing her voice. "I've been worried. Your face looks... sad."
Tate forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm fine," she said.
Martha didn't look convinced. "Are you sure? Should we go to the nurse?"
"I'm fine, Mom," Tate replied, trying to brush it off.
Martha laughed, clearly relieved to see that Tate was at least joking around. "Okay, daughter, but why haven't you replied to my message?"
Tate hesitated for a moment, then lied, "My phone was on DND, so I didn't see you text me."
Martha raised an eyebrow. "Oh, here I thought you were mad at me or something."
Tate laughed nervously. "No, just... busy," she said, shifting awkwardly.
Martha quickly changed the subject, a grin forming on her face. "Guess what?"
Tate raised an eyebrow, curious. "What?"
"We're seat partners," Martha said, her eyes sparkling. "Mr. Matthew wants to switch everyone's seats after the break, and I managed to convince him to let me sit next to you. He said you're a good influence."
Tate laughed. "Me? A good influence?" she teased.
Martha chuckled. "You're the class governor, not me. You're definitely the better influence here."
Tate shook her head, still smiling. "I guess I'll just have to keep you in line then."
Martha's face lit up. "I can't believe I get to sit next to you! Trust me, I'll be better company than Damien." She winked, nudging Tate.
Tate laughed softly, but inside, she reminded herself I really shouldn't let this crush mess up my friendship with her. The familiar ache in her chest returned, but she pushed it away.
Then, Martha changed the subject again. "What are you wearing to the ball?"
Tate blinked in confusion. "What ball?"
Martha looked at her incredulously. "The winter ball!"
Tate's eyes widened in realization. How could I forget? The winter ball was next week. It was the last event of the school year, but Tate had never bothered to attend before. She never really had friends to go with in the past, and her so-called friends always had dates. Plus, it wasn't really her scene. She'd heard it was just an excuse for boys and girls to make out with no restrictions, and some even had sex.
"Oh, the winter ball," Tate replied, trying to sound casual. "Are you going?"
"Of course!" Martha said with excitement. "I've never missed one."
Tate shrugged. "Okay."
"Okay?" Martha raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Tate's indifference. "Are you not going?"
Tate sighed. "Martha, have you ever seen me at any of the ones you've gone to?"
Martha paused. "No..."
Tate nodded. "That answers the question."
Martha pouted. "You have to come to this years own "
Tate shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no."
Martha dramatically dragged out her next word. "Tateeee! I already planned out our outfits "
Tate smirked. "And I'm sure you'll look amazing in yours. But I think I'd rather stay home and watch a series with my mom than go to that ball."
When Martha saw that Tate wasn't budging, she sighed in defeat and dropped it.
After Tate got home from school that evening, she checked her phone notifications and saw a message from Martha, sending her pictures of different dresses. They were cute, and Tate knew exactly what Martha was doing—trying to convince her to go to the Winter Ball. But Tate wouldn't budge.
In the past, if she had gone to something like this, she would have probably faded into the background, unnoticed. But now, if she went, people would see her. And that thought made her nervous. She wasn't confident enough to put herself in the spotlight. How would she even look in a dress? She knew she wouldn't look as good as the other girls who would attend the ball.
Sighing, Tate tossed her phone aside and went downstairs.
She found her mom watching TV. As soon as her mom noticed her, she smiled warmly.
"Tate, come sit with me," her mom called.
Tate went over and laid her head on her mom's lap.
"How was school today?" her mom asked, gently running her fingers through Tate's hair.
"Good," Tate replied, though her tone was flat.
Her mom paused, looking at her with a hint of concern. "Is everything okay with you? Ever since we came back, I've noticed you've been a little more in your thoughts."
Tate couldn't bring herself to tell her mom that she had developed a crush on the guy she couldn't stand just a month ago—and that he now liked her best friend, breaking her heart in the process.
"I'm fine, Mom," she said instead.
Her mom gave a knowing smile. "Well, we should go out this weekend. A mother-daughter bonding moment."
Tate lifted her head slightly, intrigued. "That would be great, Mom."
Her mom smiled wider. "We might even get you a dress. Isn't your school hosting a winter ball this year?"
Tate paused, the pit in her stomach deepening. "Yeah, they are."
"You should go," her mom said, beaming.
Tate shook her head. "I'm not going."
Her mom raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It'll be fun. You've had a productive school year—you deserve to enjoy yourself."
Tate folded her arms. "Mom, you should be the one telling me not to go. There'll be boys there, and there's no teacher supervision."
Her mom laughed softly. "You see boys every day in your class. And who knows? You might even meet someone nice."
Tate groaned and covered her face with a pillow. "What's wrong with you, Mom? I'm 15, you shouldn't be talking to me about having a boyfriend."
Her mom chuckled. "You're 15, turning 16 when we enter the new year. Just because your birthday is at the end of the year doesn't mean you won't turn 16 soon."
Tate groaned again. "Mom."
Her mom smiled and kept teasing. "If you get a boyfriend at that age, it's completely normal. You're a teenager."
"Mommm!" Tate exclaimed, frustrated but also slightly embarrassed.
Her mom laughed. "Fine, fine. But I still think you should go to the ball. You deserve to enjoy yourself."
Tate gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Mom."
Her mom patted her hand gently. "You should go to bed now. It's getting late."
Tate sighed, getting up and walking to her room. She stopped, turned back to her mom, and wished her goodnight.
As she checked her phone one last time, she saw another message from Martha, this time sending her more convincing arguments to attend the ball.
Tate stared at the screen for a moment, then sighed in defeat. Fine, I'll go to the ball. She replied to Martha, letting her know she was going, hoping she wouldn't regret the decision.
The next morning, when Tate arrived at school, she saw that Martha wasn't in class yet, but her eyes briefly met Damien's. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked away, settling into her seat. As she sat down, she instinctively pressed her phone and cleared her browser history. She didn't want anyone to discover that she had been stalking Damien's family and extended family online overnight.
Yes, I've become a stalker, she thought, and I blame Damien for it.
The familiar wood fruit scent hit her nose, and she turned to see Damien sitting next to her.
"Good morning, Tate," he said casually.
Tate forced a smile. "Morning. That's Martha's seat."
"I know," he replied, unfazed.
Tate then asked, "How can I help you?"
"Is Martha going to the Winter Ball?" he asked, his words catching her off guard.
Tate's stomach twisted. He's probably asking because he wants to go with her, she thought.
"Why are you asking?" she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Because I want to know," Damien answered, his tone flat.
Tate thought to herself that she wasn't going to make it easy for him. If he wanted to act on his crush on Martha, he shouldn't put her in it. She was suffering enough as it is.
"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Tate replied.
"I'm asking you because I clearly don't want to ask her myself," Damien said, clearly getting annoyed.
Tate replied, "I can't help you with that, buddy."
"Why are you being so secretive?" he asked.
"I'm not being secretive, Damien," Tate shot back. "Just ask her the question yourself."
Damien looked annoyed, and Tate could tell that he wasn't getting the answer he wanted.
Tate sighed and replied, "Damien, just because you told me you liked Martha doesn't mean I'll divulge any information to you. If you want to know if Martha is going, ask her yourself, and don't put me in the middle."
Tate was starting to get irritated. He wasn't interested in her, and now he wanted to use her to get information about Martha. She wasn't going to make it easy for him and she wasn't going to let her friendship with Martha be affected by whatever she felt for him.