Alleviate // H.S

XIX

"What the fuck is a Fri-yay?"

"Uhh, yay for Friday?" I hesitantly respond, thinking of the most logical answer to that question, even though I'm actually just as unsure myself.

He scoffs. "Actually?" His eyes bulge from their sockets in disbelief, and I shrug my shoulders.

"Fuck sakes. I hate our generation so much," Tate says with a sigh, shaking his head in disapproval.

"I mean, it's not that bad Tate," I admit, not feeling the slightest bit bothered by the modern colloquialism teenagers like to use, even if it's not of my day to day vocabulary. Who am I to tell someone how to speak?

"You really think that?" He says accusingly.

"There's other things I'd rather worry about. Not the trivial dilemma of what type of slang people our age should be using. It's just not worth wasting a breath over, Tate." We reach my locker, where I fiddle with the code on the padlock for a moment before opening it. Tate leans against the locker next to mine, thinking over what I said as I retrieve my books and equipment for the last two periods of the day.

"Alright then, little wise girl. Thanks for making me feel like an eejit." He rubs his hand over his forehead like he's mildly embarrassed and/or frustrated.

"What you worry about is up to you," I laugh, closing my locker. "But in saying that, don't let small things get in your head. They're not going to matter in the final product of your life." I lean against my locker, mirroring his stance.

"I feel like there's a deeper meaning to that," he squints his eyes at me and I shrug in response.

We push off of the lockers in unison and make our way outside and towards our next classes. After walking for approximately 30 seconds, Tate suddenly pauses. I furrow my eyebrows and stop walking too, turning around to be face to face with him.

"Before we get to class, I was just wanting to clarify our plans?" He asks, his warm brown eyes shining at me.

What plans?

I stand there, still furrowing my eyebrows, but at the cost of having no clue what he is on about. I stay silent for a few moments, trying to remember if I've made any plans recently — but an explanation doesn't dawn on me. I was just planning on spending the weekend with Harry and probably stay over for the night again.

Maybe I could talk to Harry about his habitual morning expeditions whilst we do something fun, like going to the river or something. I could make a picnic and bring my music speaker—

"You know? I asked you on a... date about week or so ago, but you had that dance thing?" He interrupts my involuntary thoughts about Harry. My stomach drops in realisation.

"Oh!" Faint memories of him casually asking to hang out flooded my mind and suddenly I feel guilty. We planned it for today, yet I managed to completely erase it from my brain and replace it with thoughts about Harry.

"Yeah, sorry, I was meaning to... ask you about that too," I lie through my teeth, "just slipped my mind." I chuckle for dramatic effect, hoping that he won't sense what a bad person I am for forgetting.

"It's all good," he smiles. "Can I pick you up at around six-ish, six thirty?"

"Yes. That sounds good," I say as we begin to walk towards our class again. "What are we going to be doing?"

"I don't mean to sound cliche, but it's a surprise," he winks, speeding up the pace to power ahead of me, which is a clear ploy to avoid my inquiries.

"But I don't know what I shoulder wear! Or if I need money, let alone how much!" I call after him, but he hastily disappears into the house block, where our classroom is.