Miss Americana

Ten

Ever since my "stunt"—as my parents so lovingly called it—I'd been under constant surveillance. Life360 had become my sister and her husband's new obsession, tracking my every move like I was some fugitive. If I wasn't at cotillion practice or soccer training, I had to be home. Fun? A distant memory.

But tonight, I had a plan. I'd been playing the long game, on my best behavior for weeks. I was going to ask them tonight.

The kitchen smelled of garlic and cream as I stirred the shrimp fettuccine. I had a raspberry lemon cake on the counter.

"Shrimp fettuccine Alfredo, garlic bread and cake?" My sister, Natalia, raised an eyebrow as she stepped into the kitchen.

I smiled innocently. "Not just any cake. Raspberry lemon with lemon buttercream."

Since being under house arrest, I'd become a master at cooking. If nothing else, it passed the time. I set Safiya, my niece, in her high chair and gave her a small plate of toddler-sized pasta.

"So," Beau, my brother-in-law, strolled in next, eyeing the spread suspiciously, "what's the special occasion?"

My heart thudded. This is it. I took a breath, steadying myself. "I was thinking, since I've been good—no trouble, no sneaking out—that maybe I could go to BK's birthday party tomorrow?"

Natalia's expression didn't change. She casually slid into her chair at the table, but I saw it—the flicker of hesitation. She glanced at Beau. They had this silent marriage telepathy thing going on. 

"Where is it?" Natalia asked, finally.

I launched into the details, desperate to get it all out before they could say no. "We're doing a fancy dinner at Nobu on her actual birthday Wednesday, but the party this weekend is at her house. Her parents will be there. No tabloids, no drama, I promise."

They exchanged another look. My stomach twisted. Please. Just say yes.

Natalia took a long sip of water, too long. "Beau and I will talk about it. We'll let you know before bed."

Before bed? That was ages from now. This is torture.

I forced a smile and nodded. "Okay. That's fair."

We sat down, and the conversation drifted to safer topics—cotillion dresses, senior year plans. It was normal, but my mind was buzzing, waiting for the verdict. Then Beau broke the calm.

"Tate, have you decided if you're playing soccer in college yet?"

I poked at my cake, the sweetness suddenly too much. "Still have a few weeks to decide, Beauford."

He hated when I called him that. He shot me a look, and for a second, the tension cracked. But as dinner wrapped up, I went upstairs to give them some space to think about their choice.

I finished up my homework, went through my nighttime routine, and settled into bed with Selling Sunset playing in the background when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," I called, my heart already starting to race.

Natalia walked in, her hot pink silk pajama set catching the light as she sat at the foot of my bed. Her face was serious, but there was a softness in her eyes.

"Hey, Tate." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I've thought it over, and... you can go to the party."

I blinked, barely daring to breathe. This is it. I'm free.

"But—" she added quickly, her voice firm, "please, Tatum, don't make me regret this. I'm trusting you. And just so you know, Mom's coming to town soon. So, like I said... no regrets, okay?"