Promises Hurt by Elle Brooks
This book is not suitable for young readers. It is intended for mature adults only (18+). It contains strong language, adult/sexual situations and some violence.
I wasn't planning on falling for Ethan Jamison, hell I wasn't planning on our paths ever crossing. He’s the most popular guy at school and a complete player. Me; I’m the perpetual good girl, trying to carry out one last request. But when you make a promise, how far do you go to see it through?
It’s a running joke that I’m a terrible liar, if only people knew the truth. My whole life has been spent making excuses and deflecting questions. I was pretty good at it until Blair Thomas entered my world. She saw through the mask that everyone is so willing to accept. She makes me want to tell her all my secrets, but can she promise to keep them?
2011, age 15
I’M SITTING IN the medical center waiting room swinging my legs back and forth while my best friend, Em, has a blood sample taken. We’re supposed to be going to some pizza place that Em wants to try out after this. She overheard Ethan Jamison talking about how he likes to eat there, so now, of course, we have to go there too. Her obsession with him is beyond me; he walks around school like he owns the place. Sure, he’s good looking, but if you ask me arrogance is not an attractive feature; neither is hooking up with a new girl every week.
The waiting room smells like bleach and I’ve already flicked through the pile of out-of-date magazines on the sideboard. You’d think that someone would change them at least a few times a year, but apparently not. These places are depressing; the faded yellow walls and drab green curtains look like they’ve seen better days. Considering that it’s a waiting room and people have to sit here for what feels like forever, the designer could have put in comfy seating, but the ancient-looking plastic seats are only marginally better than sitting on the floor.
Emily had complained to her mom that she was feeling tired all the time, so here we are, trying to figure out if she has an iron deficiency or something. I think if she’d told her mom that we stay up online every night past midnight talking, she wouldn’t have been so hasty to bring her to the doctor. I’m pretty sure it’s a Facebook addiction she’s suffering from and not a lack of iron.
“Hey, that took forever,” I say as Em and her mom, Pam, round the corner. Em’s face is set in a scowl as she holds a cotton bud to her arm. She’s pretty even when she’s in a foul mood, which by the looks of it, she is now. I’ve always wanted to look like her, with that sun-kissed skin and silky blonde hair.
“Oh my god, Blair, that nurse was brutal. I’m pretty sure she pushed that needle in way too far. I thought it was gonna pop out the other side,” Emily huffs as she takes a seat beside me.
“Emily, don’t be so dramatic!” Pam scolds as she walks over to the sideboard and collects a pile of magazines before sitting down.
I smile and nudge Em’s good arm, nodding my head in her mom’s direction. She’s leafing through a copy of Men’s Health.
“I’m sure she’s only looking at the articles,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows as Emily’s draw down in disgust.
“Mom, will you please stop perving in public?” she practically shouts across the room. I bust out laughing as Pam’s face reddens and the handful of patients sitting in the waiting area turn in their seats to look.
“Honestly you two, you’re terrible!” she says, shaking her head and placing the magazine beside her, replacing it with Good Housekeeping.
It’s forty-five minutes before Emily’s name is called to go see the doctor again. She stands and motions for me to follow, as Pam throws her plastic water cooler cup into the trashcan.
“Come on in with us, it’s horrid sitting in here,” she says, as Pam nods her head in agreement.
We are led into Dr. King’s office as two other male doctors walk in behind us and take their seats. I have a sudden feeling that this doesn’t seem normal—why are there other doctors in here? The atmosphere in the room is almost tangibly thick. The room feels stark and cold; there are no pictures except for a few framed certificates. The walls are pale gray and the sun is casting shadows through the gaps in the ugly blue blinds. I think I actually preferred the waiting area. Pam’s shoulders stiffen as she takes in the surroundings, particularly the two men who are sitting to the side. Dr. King makes her way around the desk and looks back and forth between Emily and me before continuing.
“Mrs. Wilson, Emily; perhaps I could speak with you in private?” she asks, giving Pam a look I can’t quite read.