Childhood promises

The sun was warm on their backs as they crouched in the grass, chasing after beetles and laughing at nothing in particular. April’s small fingers clutched a yellow flower, its petals crumpled from her grip. Daze sat beside her, his knees muddied and his dark hair wild from running. They couldn’t have been older than seven.

“Don’t worry, April,” Daze said suddenly, shielding her from a buzzing bee. “I’ll always protect you. Forever.”

April blinked at him, the promise echoing in her tiny heart like a sacred vow.

Fast forward ten years.

April stood in the hallway of Crescent High, her fingers clenched around the strap of her bag. Around her, students laughed and chatted, the air buzzing with morning energy. Somewhere ahead, she spotted him—Daze, now tall, handsome, and magnetic. He leaned casually against a locker, surrounded by his usual crowd: the “Daze Gang” as people jokingly called them. Cheerleaders, footballers, class clowns—every hallway royalty imaginable. Daze wasn’t just famous. He was Crescent High.

April? She was the hallway ghost. Silent. Clumsy. Bookish. Invisible.

She moved cautiously past him, eyes on the floor. Not that it mattered. He never looked.

They were still neighbors. Their families were still friends. Her mom still bragged about Daze to every relative who visited. His parents still gave April sweets and called her their “fourth daughter.” But in school, the line was thick and real. She’d never crossed it.

She remembered the promise often.

“I’ll always protect you. Forever.”

It echoed in her mind as if it still meant something. But Daze hadn’t spoken to her in almost a year—not at school, anyway.

A group of students walked by, jostling her shoulder. April stumbled slightly but caught herself. One of Daze’s friends glanced at her with a quick, pitying smile before turning back to the group.

She sighed and found her locker, spinning the dial slowly. As she opened it, a small pink note fluttered to the ground.

“Meet me behind the science block after school.”

Her heart skipped. Was it… from him?

She turned it over. No name. No signature. Nothing.

April stared at it, torn between fear and wild hope. Her mind began spinning romantic scenarios—but she quickly shook her head.

“Get a grip, April,” she whispered to herself. “It’s probably just a prank.”

Still, as the bell rang and students shuffled to their classes, April folded the note neatly and tucked it into her journal. Just in case.

From the other end of the hallway, Daze laughed at something his friend said, his smile lighting up the entire corridor.

April looked once, then looked away.

Somewhere deep inside, a tiny hope bloomed again.

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