Текст книги "The Year I Became Isabella Anders"
Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
My mom scans all the movie, comic, and band posters hanging on my black and violet walls then rolls her eyes at one of my sketches, or what she calls my ‘coloring book drawings’.
“What a waste of time,” she mutters, shaking her head.
I blow out a breath, trying to let her disapproval breeze past me. But that lack of air sensation appears as my lungs tighten and the shell I live in shrinks even more.
“Did you guys need something?” I close my sketchbook to avoid any more of her insults.
Her cold eyes land on me. “Turn the music down. We need to talk.”
I look over at my dad, who’s staring at the window, his eyes all lost-scared-puppy wide.
Something’s up.
“Okay.” I tear my attention off my dad as I reach over to turn down my stereo. “What’s up?”
She presses a glance at my dad, but his eyes are fastened on the window. “Do you want to tell her? Or should I?” When my father doesn’t budge, she huffs, snapping her fingers. “Henry, we agreed to this, so either you can tell her, or I can.”
My dad rubs his hand over his head then looks at me. Or, well, the space around me. “Isabella, your mother thinks—” My mom clears her throat, and my father adds, “Your mother and I were thinking that you should live with your grandmother for the summer.”
“For the entire summer?” I ask, shocked.
“You’ll go in a couple of days when school gets out,” my mom says, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of her pencil skirt. “And you can return here to finish up your senior year.”
The way she words it is confusing, like they’re kicking me out but allowing me to come back to finish school.
I’m not sure how I feel about this. “Which grandmother?”
My dad clears his throat. “Grandma Stephy.”
I relax a bit. If it would’ve been Grandma Jane, my mom’s mom, then it would’ve been an entirely different story. The woman criticizes me even more than my mom does, so much that I sometimes refer to her as Grandma Jane, Isabella Ego Slayer.
“Okay, I’ll go.” And hey, it might be good to get a break, if for nothing else than to get away from Hannah and whatever death-to-Isabella tactics she has planned for the summer.
“Of course you’ll go, since it’s not a choice,” my mom snaps. “We didn’t come in here to ask you to go. We came in here to tell you that you’re going to go. That we need a little bit of a break from your sarcasm, your rudeness, and your,” she waves her fingers at my worn-out sneakers, holey, a-size-too-big jeans, and my oversized hoodie—my typical outfit, “whatever the hell this disaster is.”
“Honey, easy.” My dad glances at me, throwing me off with the brief eye contact. “She’s just a kid.”
She points a finger at him. “Don’t you easy me. I’ve had enough of this,” her finger moves to me, “enough of her. And quite frankly, enough of you. I need a break from one of you, so it’s either you or her, and I’d really prefer her.” She spins on her heels for the door. “This was never part of the deal, and I want it fixed.” She storms out of the room.
“What deal?” I ask my dad.
My dad’s gaze bounces back and forth between me and the doorway. “Sorry, Isa. I really am,” he mutters before rushing away with his shoulders hunched, cowering like a dog with his tail between his legs. He stops in the doorway for a second to say, “Call your grandmother. She wants to talk to you about taking a trip overseas, if you’re up for it. But don’t tell you mother; otherwise, she might not let you go do something so . . . fun.” Then he hurries out of the room like it’s on fire.
I take a few measured breaths then flop onto my bed and hug Mr. Scribbles, a teddy bear my dad won for me at a carnival when I was about five. It was during the one and only birthday he and I spent together. The day had been absolutely magical, full of spun sugar, bright lights, and the chiming of games. I felt like I was floating on clouds until we got back to the house, and my mom yelled at him for over an hour because he missed one of Hannah’s beauty pageants. The only way she let him off the hook was when he promised that he would, “never do such a selfish thing again.” That was around the same time he stopped making eye contact with me.
I set the bear down and roll over on my stomach, battling back the tears as I work on my comic book drawing. It’s one of my personal favorites, mostly because it stars my alter ego, who’s much more ballsy than me. I have a sidekick, too, a woman who I sometimes like to pretend is my mom. She treats me fantastically and always tells me, Great job! every time I kick ass. I actually draw the woman a lot; she’s been stuck in my head for as long as I can remember. Sometimes she even makes appearances in my daydreams, where she takes me to movies, out shopping, and sometimes we just spend the entire day riding the Ferris wheel. She never gets angry with me or makes me feel small and insignificant. She even tells me she loves me.
I wipe a few stray tears from my cheeks and close my sketchbook. I’ve trained myself pretty well not to get too emotional over the stuff they say to me—especially my mom—but I’m not a super robot immune to such human emotion. I’m a seventeen-year-old girl who knows she’s not the best daughter, who, yeah, tests her parents’ patience a lot, and probably spends way too much time drawing comics and watching cartoons. But I still want to, just once, hear them say I love you.
My dad said it a couple of times when I was younger, but it’s been a while. And I’m almost sure my mom has at some point, but it’s been so long I can’t remember. I’ve started to fear maybe there’s something wrong with me that makes me so unlovable.
“It’s not you. It’s them,” I try to convince myself as I curl into a ball with the teddy bear.
But as I lie by myself in my room, something I do almost every day, I have to wonder if I’m wrong.
Maybe there really is something wrong with me.
MY DAD WAS right. My Grandma Stephy does want me to go overseas with her.
“Are you sure you don’t mind if I go with you?” I ask her the next morning before I head to school.
“Why the hell would I?” she asks, being her blunt, doesn’t-give-a-shit self. “Besides, if you go, then I’ll have someone young and fun to hang out with other than those old biddies.”
“Wait? Old biddies? Who are we going with?” I dig through my dresser, looking for a clean t-shirt, but can’t find one, so I end up rummaging one out of the hamper.
“The rest of the Sunnyvale Bay Community.”
“So a bunch of old people?” My mood deflates. But then I remind myself it doesn’t really matter who I’ll be going with. Anything is better than being home.
“Hey, I’m not old!” she argues. “Not even close.”
“Sorry.” I grab my sneakers from the closet. “I didn’t mean you. I know you’re not old.”
“Good girl,” she says. “Now, make sure to pack light. I don’t want to be hauling around a bunch of clothes, shoes, and shit we don’t need. Makes the suitcases too heavy and hurts my back.”
“All right, I will. And thanks again for letting me go with you.”
“I’m glad you’re going, Isa. We’re going to have a lot of fun.”
After I say goodbye, I hang up, change my shirt, and put on my sneakers. Then I run a brush through my tangled hair, pick up my bag, and head for the door to go to school, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. Going on a trip overseas sounds like a blast, and I can handle going with Grandma Stephy. But going with an entire a group of senior citizens . . . I wonder if I’ll be the only teenager there.
Oh, well. Doesn’t really matter. I don’t exactly have a choice. So, I might as well make the best of the situation. And hey, maybe the break from my family will be a good opportunity to do some soul searching without the worry of being scrutinized.
Over the next few days, I finish final exams during the day while packing my bags at night. I spend a whole five minutes saying goodbye to the few friends I have, but I’m not super close with anyone, and the see-ya-laters are a depressing reminder of just how much of a loner I am.
My parents go back to barely speaking to me, although my sister’s been overly chatty. She even convinced her Cheer Posse to do a cheer for me while I was walking across the gym, and then they laughed at me. I still don’t really understand why they were laughing. They were the ones who looked like morons bouncing around with pom-poms and chanting a cheer, where they rhymed dork with joke and spelled my name with a z.
By the time I’m actually loading up my stuff to go to my grandma’s, I’m stoked to be getting away for a while, even if it’s on a three-month trip with people five times my age.
“Do you have everything you need?” my dad asks me as he loads the last of my suitcases into the back of our SUV.
I nod, staring at the front window of the house, where my mother is watching me with her arms crossed. “I should probably go say goodbye to her, right?”
He shuts the trunk of the car, steps back, and tracks my gaze to the window. “Maybe you should just wave goodbye. Might be easier, since she’s so upset.”
“But why is she even upset with me? I didn’t really do anything but argue with Hannah.”
“That’s not what this is about.” He struggles for words and to look at me, but finally, he manages to do both. “It’s just hard for her sometimes, but I think this trip might help . . . ease some of the tension.” He pats my arm, causing me to jump, and he jerks back. “Sorry.” He massages the back of his neck, squirming. “I’m just going to go tell her we’re leaving then we’ll hit the road. We can even get some ice cream on our way out, if you want.”
Normally, I’d be all over the offer to stop for sugar, but even cookie dough ice cream can’t melt the fact that my own mother doesn’t want to say bye to me.
I slump against the back of the SUV. “Okay. Sure.”
He hesitates, his lips parting like he’s about to say something. But then he decides against it, rushes up the driveway, and hurries inside the house.
A few seconds later, my sister pulls up in her shiny silver Mercedes. She honks her horn, scaring the living daylights out of me before she turns off the engine and climbs out.
“A little jumpy, aren’t ya?” she sneers as she bumps the door shut with her hip. “I guess I’d be, too, though, if I was getting kicked out of the house.”
“I’m not getting kicked out of the house,” I say. “I’m just going to visit Grandma.”
“Keep telling yourself that, but I seriously wouldn’t be surprised if I never saw your pasty face again.” She slings the handle of her purse over her shoulder and starts up the driveway, but pauses and shoots me a smirk. “Oh! I completely forgot to tell you the fabulous news.”
She may think she’s perfect, but she’s not, I try to convince myself. See the lipstick on her teeth? It looks like she fed on someone’s blood. Plus, her hair looks kind of frizzy today, like she stuck her finger in a socket.
I shake my head at myself. Who am I kidding? She’s perfect. Albeit evil, but still, that doesn’t seem to count for much with the people I go to school with.
“Kyler and I are officially a couple.” She flips her hair off her shoulder, her smirk growing.
“Huh?” I blink at her. What the hell did she just say?
“Kyler and I are a couple.” She enunciates each word. “You know, our next door neighbor, who you’ve been in love with since forever.”
My jaw nearly smacks the concrete. “I-I’m not in love with K-Kyler.”
“Oh, please. Everyone knows you’ve been in love with him since he gave you that stupid rose, which, FYI, was a pity gift.”
I want to tell her she’s wrong. That I was in love—in lust—with Kyler before that, but that would only confirm her accusation that I’m in love with her new boyfriend.
Oh, my God.
Reality slaps me hard across the face, and my stomach twists. It’s not like Kyler hasn’t dated anyone before. He’s had a few steady girlfriends over the last couple of years, and I’ve always handled that pretty well. But dating Hannah? God, I knew it might be coming, but deep down I think I was in denial, naïvely believing that Kyler would never date a person who is so ugly on the inside.
“He told everyone the next day he gave you the rose because he felt sorry for you.” She covers her mouth when my expression sinks. “Oh, my God, you didn’t know that? That’s so sad.” She lowers her hand. “And tragic. I can’t believe you’d ever think he’d love someone like you.” Her face twists with disgust. “That godawful hair. Seriously, who puts green in their hair? And those clothes,” she shudders, “so gross.”
“I’m not in love with Kyler,” I argue, breathing in and out, trying to fight back the waterworks. “So, none of what you’re saying matters.”
Let her words roll right off you. She’s not a good person.
“You’re such a bad liar. Always have been.” She turns her back on me and strolls toward the door, her four-inch heels clicking against the sidewalk. “And for the record, Kyler’s an amazing kisser.” She giggles to herself before going inside and shutting the door.
I ball my hands into fists. “One of these days, I swear to God I’m going to . . .” I trail off as I feel someone watching me.
I glance over at the Meyers’ house then internally cringe. Kai is sitting on the back porch, staring at me. He’s wearing a pair of black board shorts, his hair looks damp, and those intense eyes of his are practically boring a hole into my head.
Shit. Did he just hear all of mine and Hannah’s conversation? Fuck it. Does it really matter? I’m sure Hannah’s already pretty much told Kyler I’m obsessed with him.
“You’re going to what?” Kai ask with his head cocked.
“Huh?” My stomach flips with my nerves. If he does know I like Kyler, he’s never going to let me live it down. Because that’s what Kai has been doing for the last six months, teasing me whenever he sees a good opportunity.
His lips quirk, like he’s fighting back a laugh. “I was just wondering what you were going to do to your sister.” He nods his head at the door. “You never finished your thought, and I’m really curious what your twisted mind was going to come up with this time.”
My lip curls, because I’m not sure if he’s teasing me or being serious. I never do with him. “I didn’t finish my thought, because I was trying to make it really good. Like sickly morbid and full of torture. But thanks for ruining my train of thought.”
He chuckles. “I’m going to miss this.”
My brows drip. “Miss what?”
He raises his head, grinning, and for some reason that only pisses me off more. “Our lovely little chats.”
I stare at him, unimpressed. “Is that what you call torturing the nerdy next door neighbor?”
He presses his hand to his chest. “I’ve never tortured you. That’s your sister’s thing. Not mine. I’ve always been nice to you.”
A disdainful laugh escapes my mouth. “Like the time you told me the stripes in my hair made me look like a rainbow?”
“Hey, rainbows are cool.” He seems totally amused and has his smoldering let-me-bind-you-in-place gaze going on.
It’s driving me absolutely crazy, and I become desperate to win our little argument. “Okay, how about the time you ate my science fair project?”
“Hey, who puts chocolate on their science fair project?” He gapes at me. “Seriously, that was your own damn fault.”
Okay, he has a point. The Chocolate Volcano Project was kind of a disaster.
“How’d you know I’m leaving?” I change the subject, wandering toward the fence.
“You mean besides the suitcases you just loaded up in the back of the SUV?” he questions, cocking his brow. But underneath the surface, he abruptly grows uneasy, fiddling with the leather bands on his wrists.
“You heard it from someone.” I eye him over with suspicion. “I can tell, because you got all squiggly.”
He rolls his eyes, like I’m being ridiculous, but then surrenders. “Fine, your sister’s been telling everyone.”
“That I’m leaving?” My brows knit. “Why would she do that?”
He scratches at the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at me. “Um . . . well . . . she’s been telling everyone that you’re being admitted to a mental institution, but I know that’s not true.”
Invisible pins stab at my skin. I don’t want to hate my sister . . . I really don’t . . . but I kinda hate her right now.
“Why’d she say I was going?” My voice sounds so hollow.
“That doesn’t matter.” He rises to his feet, steps off the porch, and strides over to the fence. “Where are you going, though?”
“Overseas with my grandma, which probably sounds lame, but I’m actually looking forward to it.”
“It doesn’t sound lame at all.”
“Not even the going-with-the-grandma part?”
He shakes his head, waving me off. “Nah, grandmas can be cool sometimes. Is yours?”
“She’s like the Queen of Cool Grandmas. Seriously. She’s the one who taught me how to drive. And I’m talking, like floor-your-car-to-the-max kind of driving. She taught me how to swim too, in a pool that was closed. We had to sneak in through this hole in the fence. She even let me try beer for the first time.” I pause, realizing something. “You know, without her, I might have ended up lacking a lot of necessary life skills. Well, beside the drinking-the-beer part. I don’t think that’s a life skill.”
“Oh, that can be a life skill,” he assures me with a devious grin, and I repress one of my own, not wanting to encourage him. “She does sound pretty cool, though.”
I bob my head up and down in agreement, fully aware of how lucky I am to be going on this trip with the coolest grandma ever.
“You’ll have to post some pictures so I can see all the awesome things you do on this trip,” Kai says, squinting against the sunlight.
I snort a laugh. “Oh, Kai, and your silly little jokes. We both know I’m not cool enough for social media.”
“That wasn’t meant to be a joke.” He stuffs his hand into his pocket and retrieves his phone. “But if you’re really that anti-social, then I’ll give you my number and you can send all of your awesome photos to me. It’ll make me feel special too.”
I roll my eyes, but give him my number so he can text me his. I don’t really think he’s going to do it, but two seconds later, my phone vibrates from inside the pocket of my jeans.
“Have fun on your trip. And I mean that, Isa. Have fun. You deserve it, more than anyone.” He gives me a strange look as he puts his phone away, like he can’t quite figure something out, then swiftly clears his throat. “Yeah, but the whole point of me coming over here was to give you a little advice.”
I pull a wary face. “I’m not sure I want to hear your advice.”
He offers me one of his infamous sexy, playful pouts. “Why not?”
“Because . . .” I sigh heavy-heartedly when his sexy, playful pout turns into genuine sulking. “Fine. You can give me advice, just as long as it’s not an ‘It’ll Get Better After High School’ speech. I don’t want to hear any of those. I’ve heard too many of those kinds of speeches.”
“It’s not one of those. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle through Hannah’s eye.” He draws an X across his chest, giving me a lopsided grin.
I can’t help but grin goofily back at him. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
“Of course I remember that. We used to say it all the time.”
“Yeah, but that was a long time ago, back when we were actually kind of friends.”
An awkward quiet fills the air between us as the past hovers over our heads.
See, once upon a time, Kai and I used to hang out. And not in the way Kyler and I hung out for a few weekends while I helped him improve his free shot skills and he opened up to me once. Unlike Kyler, Kai and I were actually friends. Well, sort of. For most of seventh grade, he walked home with me after school. He always seemed sad about something as we strolled up the sidewalk toward his house. While I could never figure out what had him feeling so blue, I did learn some stuff about him that no one else knew. Like he’s secretly into comic books. Likes zombie movies. And listens to 80s punk rock.
During the time we spent together, I always tried to cheer him up—it was the least I could do for him for not being too embarrassed to walk home with me. Sometimes my jokes made him smile. Other times, he seemed too stuck in his head. But even if the walk was filled with quietness, it was nice to have a friend.
After a few months of walking home together, he started hanging out with me on weekends. We’d mostly stay in my room, and sometimes we’d go to the park. I was really starting to believe we had a chance at becoming real, seen-in-public friends. But then came the dreaded day when one of his friends caught us hanging out at the park, and he started making fun of Kai for ‘being in love with a loser’. Kai panicked and told his friend I was stalking him, and that was the last time we walked home together.
“My advice was actually about your sister,” Kai says, breaking the silence between us. “I was going to say you need to do something to get her to leave you alone. You’ve put up with her shit for too long.”
I stuff my hands into the pocket of my hoodie. “When you say ‘do something to get her to leave you alone’, are you talking like mafia-style? Or like how Penny Milerford got Nora Benninting to leave her alone by punching her in the face? Because I’m not a mobster, nor a crazed honor roll student who may or may not be on crack.”
“Penny isn’t on crack. That’s just a stupid rumor.” His expression hardens as he backs away from the fence. “People need to stop spreading shit around about other people, just because they think something’s wrong.” He starts up the porch stairs, and I figure our conversation is over until he stops in front of the door and turns around. The intensity pouring out of his eyes startles the crap out of me, because he never directs that kind of look on me. With me, it’s always joke-this or joke-that. Look at me. I’m so funny and cute. Yada, yada, yada. “And, Isa. I meant for you to do whatever you feel you need to do to get her to stop treating you so shitty. Stand up for yourself, okay? She’s not any better than you, no matter what she thinks.” His crazed look softens.
“Since when are you so anti-Hannah? You used to flirt with her all the time.”
That’s the thing with both Kyler and Kai. While Kyler is mostly nice to me, and Kai spends a lot of time teasing me, neither of the guys have shown me the attention they’ve shown Hannah. Over the years, particularly when we all got in high school, both of them have spent a ton of time flirting with her and her friends, checking her out, and trying to get her attention.
“I only flirt with her when I’m bored,” Kai says, seeming bored right now. “But I get that she’s a bitch. And I haven’t liked her since I . . .” He trails off, but I know what he’s going to say. Since I went off the deep end and went all bad boy. “But anyway, have fun on your trip.” He winks at me, going from serious to joking in two seconds flat. “And bring back something super cool for your most awesome, super sexy next door neighbor.”
“Huh? Who am I supposed to bring the present back for?” I glance around, pretending to be confused.
His eyes narrow to slits, but he grins. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. The guy who fills up all of your dreams.”
“You mean Johny Palerson?” I feign innocence.
He snickers. “I forgot about your little seventh grade crush on that douche.” He pauses. “You’re still not into him, are you?”
“I’m more into him than my cocky neighbor next door,” I quip with a sassy smirk.
His eyes darken as he backs away from me. “You know, if you bring me back a present, it means that’s not true. That you do really like me.” He winks at me again and walks into the house before I can get another word out.
His advice echoes in my head.
He may joke around a lot with me, but when he gets all serious, he actually gives pretty good advice.
I make a vow to myself right then and there that when I get back from this trip, things will change. I’m not sure how it’s going to happen, but if I can survive seventeen years of being picked on, I sure as hell can figure out a way to finally make it stop.
