**A Promise Written on the Rusted Edge of Time by Dael Rowan Sire**
**Content: I Tried to Explain**
It was during one particularly tense group project in our English class that everything took a turn for the uncomfortable. When our teacher announced that we would be forming groups, a palpable shift swept through the room.
The air was thick with a strange energy as students eagerly began pairing off, their voices bubbling with excitement as they discussed their preferred partners. Laughter and chatter filled the space, creating a cacophony of camaraderie.
And then there was me—standing solitary in the midst of it all, feeling as if I were marked by some invisible stigma, like I had a contagious disease no one wanted to catch.
Nobody seemed interested in joining my group.
I scanned the room, my heart racing, desperately searching for just one friendly face to reach out to me.
But there was nothing.
Some classmates feigned interest in their phones, their fingers scrolling aimlessly, while others gazed longingly out the window, as if it held the secrets of the universe. A few simply closed their eyes, pretending to be lost in a dream, leaving me standing there, feeling more isolated than ever.
Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I approached a girl who seemed somewhat approachable.
“Hey, can I join your group?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She looked up, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. “Sorry, we’re full,” she replied, her tone dismissive.
I counted the heads in her group—three of them.
“I’m a good student—I was third in our major last semester,” I offered, trying to convince her that I could be a valuable asset.
Just then, a guy beside them let out a mock laugh. “So what if The Leech gets good grades? Dylan probably does all her work anyway.”
“Yeah, he’s probably taking her tests too,” another chimed in.
“Right? No way she’s actually that smart,” they all agreed, nodding as if they had just uncovered a monumental truth.
**Chapter 1**
“I don’t cheat!” I shot back, my voice rising in pitch, betraying my agitation. “I pay for my own tuition with my job now and my living expenses—”
“Oh please,” a girl interrupted, rolling her eyes in exaggerated disbelief. “Nobody’s buying that.
“Stop acting all innocent. We all know what you really are.”
It was then that Madison’s sugary voice sliced through the chaos. She seemed to materialize out of thin air, her face adorned with a disingenuous expression of sympathy that made my stomach churn.



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