Page 1 of A Forgotten Promise

Prologue

Saar

Fifteen years old

“Saar, I heard Corm Quinn is going to ask you to the school dance,” Arielle says.

Heat rises to my cheeks, and my pulse quickens.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I pretend-scoff, while my entire body shakes with the possibility.

“You should let him know you’re interested. Boys like him like confident girls,” Arielle chirps as we walk across the schoolyard.

“I doubt he doesn’t have a date yet.” I act bored, uninterested. Like my eyes arenotsearching for him among the groups of students.

“But is his date as hot as you?” She pokes my ribs.

I stop.Not this again. “What are you talking about?”

She looks at me, deadpanned.

A few weeks back, a modeling scout gave me his business card when we wandered around a mall. The card has driven a wedge between us.

Arielle didn’t even pretend to be happy for me, riddled with jealousy.

She’s been teasing me about it relentlessly. And I didn’t call the number because I didn’t want her to feel less. To feel unseen. To feel not enough.

In a world where my parents either demand from me or forget I exist, and my brothers treat me like an annoying insect, my best friend has been my harbor, my reason, my home.

But the bitter aftertaste from the mall-outing afternoon has been lingering between us.

The bell interrupts our conversation, and we run to the class.

Corm Quinn? The ‘most popular boy in my high school and three years my senior’ Corm Quinn? A boy with dark blond hair and silver eyes who is so hot, all the girls fan themselves when he enters the room.

Me and him at the dance?

As unlikely as that is, Arielle has planted the seed.

For several days, the gullible me suddenly starts noticing—or more like fantasizing about—his eyes holding mine a bit longer in the cafeteria.

Him hanging behind when his soccer game finished, right as my running practice was about to start. The almost-smile he sent in my direction when we ran into each other in front of the labs.

Only it wasn’t me his eyes were searching for. It wasn’t me the smile was for. It wasn’t me he stayed behind for.

“I already have a date. Arielle asked me, but save me a dance.” Corm winks at me before he joins his friends.

My stomach churns as I watch them leave. Before they turn the corner, he looks back and smiles. I desperately want to see regret on his gorgeous face, but he doesn’t seem sorry, his smile a pure flirt.

Why would he be sorry, you idiot?He doesn’t know he just crushed you and humiliated you.Because it wasn’t really Corm who stabbed me in the back.

My best friend did.

The tiny blood droplets seep into the white rug. The glass shards reflect light in a kaleidoscope of colors, striking the mess on the floor, almost making it beautiful.

I stretch my limbs over the cold, hard tiles of my bathroom and clutch my cut hand to my chest.

The red sweats into my white T-shirt now. For such a minor cut, the blood loss should concern me.

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