The Unconditional Pledge

17 Ava

I remember my life before my mom's death like a long dream: always blurry, missing in parts, like it was a different world. Until then, I'd strived to be someone like Paige — we were close friends at one point. All those memories of partying, gossiping, obsessing over the most superficial details barely seem real in my head anymore. A part of me must remember them, though, because falling back into that role is becoming less and less difficult each day, and more and more alarming.

Last night, Courtney and I had gone to a party thrown by a boy from Crestview Academy, a neighboring prep school. "It's crucial to branch out of social circles every once in a while," she'd said importantly, zipping up my dress. If popularity and appearances were a class, Courtney would excel as a professor. "Plus, the boys at Crestview are so cute."

"Cuter than Ashton?" I'd asked.

"Ashton does not exist tonight."

Arriving at the house — smaller than homes in Fieldbrook, but just as expensive-looking — I had suddenly felt an odd, tingling feeling all over my body that I hadn't experienced in years. Then I realized what it was: pre-party anticipation. For the first time in a very long time, it felt natural to walk in with Courtney, greet people we knew and people we didn't with big smiles, take shots at the counter and let the boys introduce themselves to us. There's a healthy rivalry going between Fieldbrook Heights and Crestview Academy's sports teams, but we're often invited to each other's parties. And Courtney had been right — the boys were really, really cute.

"Is this spot taken?"

I jerk my head up and meet a pair of familiar eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Noah shrugs. I'm sitting in the library, where I usually go to be alone with my thoughts. It's a good choice because not many students in the Heights voluntarily spend time here. Noah has a stack of books in his hands and headphones hanging from his neck, like that day I'd seen him in the cafeteria. "I like to read."

I must be staring in disbelief, because he smirks a little. "What? Guys can read, too."

"Could've fooled me," I mutter, but I move some of my stuff asides anyway so he can sit.

I continue to work on my English assignment, trying not to think about Noah's presence. I decided, after seeing him at lunch that day, that I should steer clear of him. I'm preoccupied enough as it is — with the pledge, with homework, keeping up with Courtney's crowd, and most recently, consoling Hannah over that debacle with Jay — and figuring out a new student, even if he is cute, should not be a priority. But soon enough, Noah speaks again.

"You look different today."

The librarian, Mrs. Stevenson, immediately shushes us from behind a row of books. "So what?" I whisper.

"Nothing," he says. "I just think you look better this way."

Since it's the weekend, meaning I don't have to see anyone from school, I didn't bother with my uniform or any sort of make-up — I'm wearing one of my old hoodies, my hair in a chaotic bun. "Thanks, I guess."

"Why don't you wear this more often?"

I keep forgetting that Noah isn't from Fieldbrook. He's recently moved here, and obviously still isn't accustomed to how things work in our school yet. "It's complicated."

"I have time."

"That's it." We both turn to see Mrs. Stevenson looming over us, her glasses on the tip of her crooked nose. "Either you both study silently or split up."

Noah and I exchange looks as she leaves, fighting back laughter. "You almost finished?" Noah whispers. "We can get out of here."

I hesitate, thinking about how much work I still have to do, and about my decision to stop seeing Noah. But I look up at him, meeting his curious, friendly gaze, and I feel my resolve weakening. "Okay."