Every Last Promise by Kristin Halbrook Read Free Book Online

doesn’t approach me but waits for my footsteps to find her.
    I’ve told Jen Brewster that she’s my best friend a million times. I’ve drawn thousands of hearts on notes we’ve passed. Once, I told her that I didn’t know what I’d do without her.
    For months, I was without her, and I was scared she was back here despising me with the same intensity that I loved her.
    Love her.
    I try to anticipate what’s going to come out of her mouth, but I have no idea what Jen will say. There’s nowhere for me to turn, and I swear I won’t run away again.
    I fumble for a word, for the right words. But nothing comes. I stop at my locker. Tuck my fingers under the strap of my bag.
    â€œYou came back,” Jen says.
    I can’t tell if she is angry or curious or condescending orhappy. And that’s not me and Jen. I used to be able to know what she was thinking with barely a glance. I feel ill.
    â€œYeah.” The word is husky, filled with unshed tears. “How have you been?”
    Her mouth twitches and I can hear what she doesn’t say: Who are you to ask that question? Instead, “I heard you were back in town. Weird.”
    My heart drops to my feet, crushes. She’s not even being mean about it, and there’s not a trace of bitterness. She’s controlled, matter of fact. There’s nothing .
    â€œI’m back.”
    I glance at the people walking past us, staring, not bothering to hide their interest in my conversation with Jen. They want a first-day-of-school scene to talk about. I know, because I would have wanted the same thing last year. Now I want our scene to disappear into the wall.
    â€œI heard you were in Kansas City. Nice there?”
    I swallow. “It’s different.”
    â€œBut it must’ve been nice. After everything. To go somewhere different.”
    â€œI needed . . .” What did I need that wasn’t obvious, that she doesn’t already know? “To come back.”
    â€œI thought your leaving was a good idea.”
    I clutch my bag to my shoulder, refusing to let it slide down my arm the way I want to slide down these lockers.
    She shifts. Less than an inch. A microscopic movementof the bottom of her shoes, a twitch in her ankle. Something only someone who knows her would see.
    â€œJen . . .” Why is it so hard to say it? I missed you . But my tongue dances around the syllables, ties itself like a sailor’s knot on the “I” and won’t let go. This vulnerability with Jen is new. Unwelcome. Terrifying.
    Jen’s line of vision shifts to a spot over my shoulder and her eyes narrow. I turn slowly, not knowing what to expect. Bean stands several feet back, watching us, one hand reaching into her locker.
    â€œSee you around,” Jen says to the back of my head.
    When I twist back to face her, she’s already moving away.
    â€œWait—”
    â€œNo, Kayla. I had to wait for you. Now, you can wait for me.”
    I stand there in the hallway, watching her back. An arm slams into my shoulder and there’s laughter. A random voice I don’t recognize mutters, “Killer Kayla.”
    Killer.
    Like I did it on purpose.
    Which . . . I had.

SPRING
    THE FOUR OF US snuggled under layers of blankets, our fingers greasy with buttered popcorn. Selena had been talking for fifteen minutes about how, since we were almost seniors, she was only dating college boys from now on. Bean rolled her eyes toward me and we shared a secret, patient smile, our hair mingling across our pillows like eddies of yellow and red. Jen licked her fingers clean of butter and perused the bottles of nail polish I’d brought down from my room.
    â€œSteven McInnis had the balls to text me last night,” Selena said. “At, like, one a.m. Like I’m a booty call? I don’t even know how he got my phone number. Loser.”
    â€œHe was with Jay last night,” Jen said. “Jay was probably drunk