The Broken Watch Promise

He gave away the watch I'd saved a year for. Tossed it to one of his buddies like it was garbage. "You want it? Take it." A year of skipped lunches, counted out in single dollars.

His friend turned it over in his hand and laughed. "You could pawn this for what, a tank of gas?" Zane looked up. Right at me.

Something crossed his face, there and gone, like he'd been caught at something. I was too far under to read it. Eight years later, at the reunion, I'd finally hear it.

That Zane had been looking for me the whole time. Eight years. Chapter 1 When my eyes met Zane's, his face went still.

The guy holding my watch rubbed the back of his neck. "You— you want it back?" The watch was wrecked.

Scratched up, the band wrenched out of shape, like it had been passed around a circle and dropped a few times on the way. Nobody had ever meant to keep it. It wasn't a nice watch.

A few hundred dollars. It had taken me almost a year. One skipped lunch at a time. My eyes went to Zane's wrist. He was wearing a watch today. I didn't know the brand.

I knew it cost more than anything I'd ever put on mine. I took the watch out of his friend's hand.

I made myself look at Zane. "It's fine," I said. "I'll deal with it myself." He dropped his eyes. Pressed his lips together. Said nothing.

I rubbed my thumb once over the scratched face of it, and walked out. There was a trash can by the school gate. I didn't slow down. I dropped it in.

Then I turned and looked back at him. He lifted his gaze, lazy, the corner of his mouth tilting up. Amused. Like I was something funny he'd watch for a minute and forget by lunch.

My face went hot. I looked at the ground. It's a humiliating thing, loving someone like that.

I didn't know yet that the look on his face would follow me into my sleep for eight years.

My dad was sitting in the doorway when I got home, a cheap cigarette burning down between his fingers. His face was gray. My mom wasn't there. He held out a sheet of paper.

A medical report. The word on it was cancer. He pulled hard on the cigarette. "Treatment runs into money we'll never see. Hundreds of thousands." His voice didn't shake.

That was the worst part. "Your mom and I talked it through. We're not doing it." A beat. "She says she wants the ribs I make. Go pick some up.

I'll bring her home in a bit." I didn't believe him. I turned the report over and over, like the back might say something kinder. My voice came out wrong. "Is it confirmed?

These get read wrong all the time. I'll take her back tomorrow, we'll get a second opinion, it's got to be a mistake…" I stared at him. Stubborn. His eyes were red.

He just looked at me. He didn't say anything. That's when the tears came, and they wouldn't stop. "I'll quit school," I got out, finally. "Treat Mom. Please." He bowed his head.

I knew his grief wasn't any smaller than mine. My dad's right leg never worked right.

Back then my mom was the only one who'd have him, the only one who didn't look at that leg like a reason to walk away. She stayed. She kept telling him he was worth something.

We were poor. They loved each other in a way that poor never touched. When I was a kid I asked my dad what he lived for. He had to think about it.

He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Your mom," he said. "Your mom's the thing I live for." And later, I had mine too.

I was going to grow up, make money, take the two of them to see the world. Now my dad's reason was caving in on him. So was mine.

I held his hand and said it like it was already settled. Because it was. "I'm not going back to school. I'll get a job.

We'll take her to the city, to a real hospital, and we'll treat her." He smoked and said nothing. But I'd decided. I told him to go bring Mom home and pack a few things.

We were leaving for the city. Then I headed back to school. Chapter 2 It started raining halfway there. Everyone on the street was hurrying, heads down, racing the downpour.

That was the only reason I let myself cry. Rain and the rest of it ran together where nobody could tell them apart. By the time I reached the school, it was nearly empty.

I put my hand into the trash can by the gate. The smell came up at me, sour and sharp. I dug. Turned it all over. Again. The watch wasn't there. I bit down on my lip.

I wanted to slap the version of me from an hour ago. Even broken, even scratched, somebody would've handed me a few dollars for it. I dug for hours.

Every piece of garbage in that can passed through my fingers. No watch. I walked home with nothing left in my face. The street was empty now.

The rain came down hard enough to sting. My dad wasn't back yet. The house had always been warm. It felt like the inside of a freezer. I waited. And waited.

What finally came was a neighbor, out of breath, the rain sheeting off him, and I knew from his face before he got a word out. My mother was gone. My father, too. That same night.

I was a senior in high school. In the space of one night I had no one left. I was an orphan. Eight years, and I still can't put that night down. I sat up in bed and woke my phone.

Four a.m. I said it to the empty room, small, the way a kid says it. "Mom. Dad." Same as always. Nothing came back. I lowered my head. Eight years.

Not once have they come to see me. The only place I go looking for them is a dream, and they're never in it. It's only ever him. Zane.

That tilt at the corner of his mouth, those laughing eyes. "Have you no shame, Nora?" Every time I shout back that I do, that I've still got my pride, the dream lets go of me and I'm awake.

No falling asleep again after that. I got up and started packing. Eight years ago I buried them on autopilot and left that town behind.

New city, new life, and I never let myself stop moving. The second I stopped, I wanted to cry. A doctor put a word on it once. Moderate depression.

He said I needed someone to walk me back out of that one day. There was never anyone like that. Eight years gone, and lately I'd been wanting to go back.

Back to the place that was theirs. I wanted to stand there and ask them why. Why they were cruel enough to leave me behind. I was so tired. I was going back anyway.

I didn't even mind the old classmates anymore. So when the class president asked who was in for the reunion, I was the first to say yes.

I hadn't typed a word in that group chat in eight years. I'd deleted every one of them off my phone. Zane included.

I bought a seat on the first bus out, and something in my chest came loose. Eight years, and no day had ever felt this light. I watched the country slide past the window.

I even smiled, talking to the young couple in the next seats. "You have no idea," the girl said. "It took me two years to land him. He had girls lined up.

But I held on, and now I'm taking him home to meet my parents." She beamed at me. "You look happy too. Are you headed home?

I swear, on the way to see your folks, even the wind tastes sweet." I went quiet for a second. Then I pulled a smile up from somewhere. "Yeah," I said. "I'm going home too." "Home.

To see Mom and Dad." I said the last part low enough that no one but me could hear it. Chapter 3 But the words landed somewhere good in me. I was about to see them. Mom and Dad.

Soon. I hummed the whole way. I went straight from the station to the place the class president had booked. Most people were already there.

The second I walked in, the room went quiet. I sat down by myself, in the seat closest to the door. I let the smile slide off my face.

The class president pushed his glasses up and broke the silence. "Nora. You came." I nodded. Brielle had never liked me, all the way back.

She clicked her tongue, bright and sweet and loud enough for the whole table. "Oh my god, is that the famous Nora?

Our impossibletobook honor student?" A little laugh. "No offense, but one look at that face and I've kind of lost my appetite. Somebody should give Zane a headsup.

Maybe sit this one out, you know?" Nobody there knew why I'd left school back then. But they all knew I'd liked Zane. They all knew about the gift.

The girl next to Brielle tugged her sleeve. The class president frowned. "Ease up. Zane's been looking for Nora for eight years.

He'd be glad to know she's here." Brielle snorted. "He's just a nice guy.

Since when do you spend eight years tracking a girl down to tell her you don't like her back?" She was warming up now. "That's all it is. He wants to apologize.

Is it a crime not to have a crush on someone? Everybody knows Nora transferred because he embarrassed her.

The way you're talking, you'd think he was the one pining." Another laugh, sweeter. "Zane's already got someone, doesn't he. Old money, I heard. Gorgeous.

And Nora's got, what, a pretty face? The dad who can't walk? That charming little house with nothing in it?" She flicked her hand. "Come on." She kept going.

Around the table, people were starting to frown. I stood up. There was nothing angry in my face. "I'm not eating, so you don't have to worry about losing your appetite.

I came to see everyone. I've seen them now. I'll go." Brielle's smile caught and didn't quite come back. For once, she had nothing to say. I pulled the door open and walked out.

The class president came after me. He caught my hand, serious. "He really did look for you. Eight years, Nora. You're not going to wait for him?" Zane came up in my head. Beautiful.

Good eyes. And nothing in them when they landed on me. That tilt at the corner of his mouth. Amused. I shook my head and smiled. "I'm short on time.

When you see him, tell him I'm sorry. I really am. I'm so sorry." He froze where he stood. After that I went to see my parents.

I sat with them a long time, at the two stones in the grass, and left them buried in flowers, every last one the shop had. Then I went back to the house. Dust on everything.

I didn't clean it. I didn't touch a thing. I stood in the doorway a long while, until the dark came down all the way. No streetlights that far out. I woke my phone. Almost eleven.

I went to say goodbye to them. The night was so quiet. There was no one.

Whatever it was that had held me upright for eight years, I felt it finally let go, finger by finger, and I was so tired, and everything had gone soft and far away.

And then, from somewhere behind me, impossible, I heard his voice. Chapter 4