Текст книги "The Year I Became Isabella Anders"

Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

THE MURAL’S GOING to take a while and requires way more paint supplies than I have. Plus, I’m not the most fantastic painter, but I do know someone who’s an amazing artist.

I pick up my phone and call Indigo.

“Hey, I need a favor,” I say after Indigo answers my call.

She yawns. “Dude, Isa, I love you to death, but I just laid down to take a nap.”

“Sorry. I’ll make it quick.” I flop down on my unmade bed and stare up at my lame-ass, boring ceiling. “I need you to pick me up Monday after school then come over to my house and paint a mural on my wall.”

I chose Monday because Hannah will be at college orientation, at least according to the calendar downstairs. And more than likely, my mom will go with her, which means I’ll have the entire house to myself for a while.

“A mural?” Confusion laces her voice. “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, I quickly explain to her what happened to my room while I was gone. By the time I’m finished, she’s cursed about twenty times and called Lynn and Hannah some very creative names.

“Will you help me?” I ask after she stops freaking out.

“Of course I’ll help you,” she says, still sounding pissed off. “We’re so going to do something badass.”

“I have a couple of ideas actually.”

“Good. Draw them up, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome. And thanks.”

“No prob,” she says then yawns again. “All right, now I have to go to sleep, or I’ll be super pissy when you see me on Monday.

Laughing, I say goodbye, but I don’t put the phone away. I have one more call to make before I do.

I punch in Grandma Stephy’s number.

“You need me to come rescue you?” she asks the moment she picks up.

“Not yet, but I do need a favor.” I chew on my thumbnail then force myself to stop, because it’s going to ruin my nail polish. “I know you said to wait a few days and sit on it, but I’m ready to talk to my dad. I can’t wait anymore. I need to know.”

“Honey, I really think we should wait a couple of days. You never know. You might change your mind and decide to wait, at least until you go off to college and get out of that house.”

“Someone painted my room while I was gone.” I force down the lump in my throat. “And took down all of my posters and drawings. Everything that was me in this room is gone. I need to know what happened. It’s all I have left.”

“Isa, I’m so sorry. Goddammit, your family’s a bunch of assholes,” she curses, but when she speaks again, she’s calm. “You still have me, sweetie. You know that, right? Just because we’re not on a trip together doesn’t mean we can’t spend time together.”

“I know, but I really need to do this. Finding my mom . . . finding out why she gave me up . . . I need to know.”

Seconds tick by before she says anything.

“All right, I’ll call up your father and schedule a time for the three of us to have dinner next week at my place,” she says. “He’s going to know something’s up, though. I’m going to have to lie to him, or he won’t come over.”

“Tell him that you found something of Grandpa’s you think he might like,” I suggest. “He’s always had a soft spot for Grandpa.”

“That’s actually a good idea, but how am I supposed to get him to bring you over.”

“Just say you want to see me. He’s not going to argue. Not when Lynn will be more than glad to get a break from me.”

“I feel so sneaky right now,” she muses through a chuckle. “I like it.”

“That’s because you’re crazy,” I tell her, smiling for the first time in over a day.

“I know I am.” She pauses. “But, Isa, please promise me that no matter what happens with this—no matter where this goes—you’ll always come talk to me if anything’s ever bothering you. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re in this alone.”

I press my lips together and nod, even though she can’t see me. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” she says. “And remember, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

By the time I hang up, I’m crying. I decide to let it all out, because it’s better than holding it in and letting it smother me.

Ten minutes later, my eyes are swollen, I have the hiccups, and mascara and eyeliner stain my cheeks. I go to the bathroom to wash my face and fix my makeup before going back to my room and forcing myself to think about something other than my mom.

I stare out the window at the house next door, wondering when I’ll run into Kyler. Part of me wants to, while part of me would rather not, especially since he’s probably dating Hannah.

As I leave the window, I hear the front door open, and the sound of voices fills the house. Suddenly, all my Kyler and mom worries go bye-bye as bigger, more wicked problems arise.

I think about staying in my room. Never going out. But eventually, I’ll have to face them, so might as well rip off the Band-Aid now. Besides, maybe I can get to the bottom of where the hell my drawings ended up.

Mustering up every ounce of courage I gained on the trip, I square my shoulders and march downstairs. But when I enter the living room and see my dad, Lynn, and Hannah all chilling on the sofa, surrounded by tons of shopping bags, chatting about orientation, my confidence goes see ya later.

I start to turn around to leave, when I hear Hannah say, “What the hell happened to you?”

Summoning a deep breath, I turn around and face them. “Hey.”

“Um . . .” Hannah stares at me with her jaw hanging to her knees, totally speechless.

I fight the urge to cross my arms and try to cover myself up. “So, yeah, I’m back.”

“We can see that.” Lynn stares at me with an unwelcoming expression, and even though it doesn’t seem possible, I swear her eyes carry more hatred for me than they ever have.

I hold her death glare, though, even if my insides are jiggling around like a bouncy house. I know who you really are. Know where that look of hate comes from. Trust me, I get it. Dad cheated on you, and you hate me, but you know what? You had no right to treat me the way you did, and one day I’m going to let you know that.

The longer I look at her, the more she grinds her teeth, until she finally removes her eyes from me and focuses on digging around in the shopping bags.

“You look,” my dad scratches his head as he stares at me, “nice.”

“Henry,” Lynn warns, blasting him with a scowl that could kill. “I thought you said you had stuff to do for work.”

“I do.” His eyes linger on me a beat or two longer then he stands up and says to Lynn, “I’ll be in the office if anyone needs anything.” He crosses the room, patting me on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s nice to have you back,” he whispers before hurrying down the hallway to his office.

Lynn must have heard him, because her attention zeroes in on me. “So, Isabella,” she says my name in the craziest way, like it’s an insult. “I see you had a pretty fun trip and got yourself a little makeover.”

“You could say that,” I reply dryly, sensing a punch line coming.

Her face pinches as she purposefully takes in my outfit. “You should’ve taken my advice. Dresses don’t suit you, hon.”

Hannah snickers as she takes out a pair of high heels from a box. “Don’t be an idiot, Mom. Nothing suits her.”

“Be nice, Hannah,” Lynn says, smiling. “She can hear us.”

I roll my tongue inside my mouth. I won’t cry. I won’t. “What happened to my room?”

Lynn exchanges a fleeting glance with Hannah then looks back at me. “We decided to get it ready for when you move out next year. We’re going to turn it into a guestroom.”

My fingers curl inward and pierce into my palms. “Okay. But where did you put all of my drawings and posters.”

“I threw them away.” She pulls out a silver dress from one of the bags. “They weren’t in the best condition anyway. Most of the corners of the posters were torn, and those drawings . . .” She lays the dress down. “ . . . well, I’ve been telling you for years how much I don’t like those drawings, and decided it was time for them to go.” She looks at me with her hands in her lap, her back straight, trying to appear so proper, the innocent victim.

But she’s not fooling me. I can see the evil villain hidden inside her, the one who hates me and has been trying to ruin my life for the last fourteen years. Maybe that’s why I’m really here. Maybe she wanted to punish my dad for cheating on her by torturing me.

“Awesome. I’ve been meaning to redecorate anyway.” I plaster on a smile that only grows when both their jaws drop.

I should feel more satisfied than I do. I mean, I finally struck them speechless. In the end, though, I have to return to my room, where all I have left is the suitcases of stuff I brought back with me on my trip. Sure, it could be worse. I could have nothing.

But I miss my drawings. I put a lot of time and effort into them. They were part of me and got me through some rough and brutal days. In a way, the people who starred in the comics were kind of like my friends. Plus, there was the woman. My sidekick. The one I dreamed was my mother. Those sketches are gone too, and even though I was never positive it was my mom in the drawings, I still feel like I lost a part of her.

I LEARN THREE things over the next couple of days while stuck at home:

1. Lynn and Hannah hate my new look, and have made it their mission to destroy any confidence I’ve gained.

2. The new look seems to have put some kind of confusion spell on my dad, because he keeps staring at me like he’s trying to figure something out, but can’t quite get there.

3. Hannah and Kyler broke up, something I learn when I hear the two of them arguing in the driveway while I’m out drawing on the balcony. From the sound of things, they were never really together to begin with.

“I told you I didn’t want a serious girlfriend and that I needed to focus on football,” Kyler says to her. “I told you that on our second date.”

“And I told you I didn’t give a shit,” she growls. “You should have thought about that when you kissed me.”

“I never meant for that kiss to happen. I told you . . . I was a little drunk.”

It’s too dark outside for me to see them, but I can hear how uncomfortable Kyler is through his edgy tone.

“I’m really sorry, Hannah, but we’re not getting together.” He tries to sound firm. “You have to let this go.”

When he walks away, I hear Hannah mutter, “Like hell I’m going to let this go. No one rejects me.”

I shake my head. Aw, the downfall of being spoiled. She’s so used to getting her way she doesn’t know how to handle it when she doesn’t.

The next couple of hours, I stay outside on my balcony, getting lost in a drawing. I’m not even sure how much time goes by, but eventually, my hand starts to cramp up.

“Having fun up there?” Kai’s voice floats up from somewhere down below.

Startled, I drop the pencil and lean forward to peer over the railing. “Where are you?”

He giggles like a girl, and I think he might be drunk. “I’m invisible.”

I rest my arms on the railing, squinting through the dark until I make out his silhouette in the driveway just below my balcony. “You know, you once told me you wanted to have the superpower of invisibility. Do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” he fully admits. “I’m still working on getting that superpower, though.”

“You’ll never be invisible,” I tell him. “You’re just not that kind of guy.”

“Hey, maybe I can be . . . I mean, look at you. You turned un-invisible.”

I’m glad he can’t see me as my skin warms. “I’m not un-invisible. Nice word choice, by the way.”

“Thank you. And that’s what you are. Un-invisible.” As he shuffles backwards, the moonlight hits his face and I can see the swaying in his movements.

“You’re drunk, aren’t ya?” I tease.

He holds up his fingers an inch apart. “Just a tiny, tiny bit.”

“Were you at a party?”

“I was . . . but not one of those lame-ass parties Kyler always goes to. This party was my kind of party. Not his.”

“Okay,” I say, again sensing tension between Kyler and him.

“Maybe next time you can come,” he says softly. “I mean, I know I’m not my brother or anything, but I can be fun.”

I catch the underlying meaning of his words, but before I can get too worked up, he staggers toward the fence that divides out yards.

“See you at school tomorrow, Isa.” He clumsily hops over the fence and trips up the steps to his house.

“Yeah, see ya.” I gather my things and head inside, trying not to stress over the fact that school starts tomorrow, and I have to go through with my plan to actually try to make friends. But as I lie down in bed to go to sleep, I’m nothing but a bundle of nerves.

I’ve always walked to school, even after I turned sixteen. While Hannah got a brand new car and a pool party for her sweet sixteen, I got her old bike and a cupcake. And while I was glad just to get something, the old bike does me absolutely no good today as I walk to school in black velvet platforms, not made for pedals. Seriously, what was I thinking? Yeah, the shoes looked cute when I bought them, and they are, as Indigo put it, ‘fucking ama-zing’, paired with my knee high socks, denim shorts, and grey crop tee. But by the time I reach school, the killer shoes are filled with my blood.

I’m trying not to limp as I cross the crowded parking lot toward the entrance. I have my attention on my schedule that came in the mail while I was gone, my thumb is hitched through the handle of my bag, and the wind is threatening to ruin my hair. But I’m rocking a side braid with these cool hair rings in it, and I manage to make it safely inside school without a hair moving out of place.

I should probably look up as I start down the hallway, but I want a couple more moments to collect myself before I have to stroll past people who have either never noticed me, or noticed me too much, thanks to Hannah. Even though she’s now at college, some of her younger friends are still hanging around somewhere and might be ready to make fun of me, and God knows what they’re going to say about that stupid rumor Hannah spread at the beginning of the summer about me being in a mental institution.

“Great, I have math first period,” I gripe to myself as I weave my way down the crowded hallway toward my locker with my eyes glued to the schedule. “I hate ma—”

A shiver shoots up my spine as someone grabs me by the waist. Their palms graze the sliver of space between my shirt and shorts, and I just about lose my shit, because I know there’s no way it could be one of my kinda, sorta friends touching me like that.

“What the hell?!” I squeal, reeling around and jumping back.

Kai is standing there, wearing a pair of dark jeans, and a shirt for once—we are in school, after all. His hair is a mad mess, but in a bedhead sorta way, and he’s biting his bottom lip, struggling not to laugh at me.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, shoving his shoulder.

“Clearly making a scene,” he replies, his gaze skimming the hallway.

I glance behind me and cringe. Almost half the people standing near us are gawking, probably because I squealed like a rabid beast. Great. So much for making a good first day impression and not drawing attention to myself.

Facing Kai, I lightly shove him. “Dude, you can’t just grab people like that. You scared the shit out of me.”

“When I grab most girls like that, they like it,” he says with a smirk.

“Well, I’m not most girls . . . and I’m not used to people touching me.” I fidget with a bracelet on my wrist, feeling all sorts of jittery standing here, with half the damn school gawking at me. “You feeling better?”

His brows dip. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, better than you did last night. You were a little out of it.”

His eyes widen. “I talked to you last night?”

I nod, loving how shocked I made him. “You did. You actually yelled up at my balcony just to get my attention. It was very Romeo and Juliet.” I shoot him a grin so he’ll know I’m kidding.

He crosses his arms and shifts his weights. “Did I say anything . . . I don’t know . . . weird?”

When I shrug, he narrows his eyes at me.

“Nothing too weird. Well, other than you declared your undying love for me. Oh yeah, and for zombies.” I smile when he grows even more uneasy. “Relax, you didn’t say anything weird. Although, you did invite me to come to the next party with you.”

“I did, huh?” He rubs his scruffy jawline, musing over something. “Interesting.”

Silence stretches between us, and my thoughts wander back to the people watching us.

I wanted today to go great, but I already have blisters on my heels and screamed in front of half my class. Maybe Hannah was right with what she said to me this morning. “Once a freak. Always a freak,” she sneered when she saw me all dressed up.

I shake my head. No. She’s not right. I won’t let her be.

I straighten my shoulders and prepare myself. Time to do this. Face the music. Walk in head-on. I just cross my fingers and toes that the majority of the people here have forgotten the rumor Hannah spread at the beginning of the summer, that I was being admitted to a mental institution.

“I have to figure out where all my classes are.” I wave bye to Kai. “See ya later, maybe.”

“You’ve been going here for three years, Isa. You know where all the classrooms are.” He snags ahold of my arm and hauls me toward the stairway that leads to the second floor.

I shuffle after him, noting that people are still staring at us, either because they think I’m insane or because Kai has his hand on my arm. Sure, he’s talked to me in school before, to tease me mainly, but he’s definitely never dragged me up the stairway.

He doesn’t let me go until we reach a locker toward the end of the hallway on the second floor. By the time his fingers leave my arm, my skin is tingling in the nicest way ever.

“What’s with all the touching?” I ask him as I shift the handle of my bag higher onto my shoulder.

He shrugs as he twists the combination of his locker. “You’re the one who let me do it.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I anxiously glance around the hallway, noticing people are still eyeballing us with fascination. “But you’ve never done that in the past. I mean, held onto my arm in public. Or talked to me.” I want to say so much more. Want to point out that back in the day, he wouldn’t be caught dead with me. But this doesn’t feel like the time or place to bring it up.

He opens his locker. “Actually, I have before. Or at least I tried to. But usually when I tried to drag you down the hallway to . . . what did you call it the other day?” His head tilts to the side as he smirks. “Oh, yeah, ‘to get my kicks and giggles’, you pulled away and ran away from me like I was on fire.”

I cross my arms, feeling self-conscious. “That’s because I knew you were making fun of me.”

“No, that was all in your head.” He taps his finger against my temple. “It’s all psychological, but now that you’re,” he glances up and down at me, lingering extra long on the sliver of skin peeking out of my shirt, “yeah, now you’re okay with it, because you’re more okay with yourself.”

“Is that why you brought me up here? Just to see if I’d come with you?” I ask curiously.

He smiles at me, and I playfully swat his arm.

He places a hand over his arm where I swatted him, laughing. “What’s with all the abuse?”

“Sorry, but you’re purposely trying to make me mad.” I tuck my hands into the back pocket of my shorts. “Now, if you’re done playing with my mind, I’m going to go track down my locker.”

As I turn to leave, he catches the bottom of my shirt and tows me back to him. “I didn’t just bring you up here to play with your mind,” he says. “You owe me a gift.”

“The gift. Yeah, I forgot about that.” I slide my backpack off, unzip it, and dig out the small box his gift is in, taking my time just so I’ll drive him crazy. When he reaches for the box in my hand, I tuck it behind my back. “Ask nicely.”

His eyes narrow to slits, but it’s a playful move. “Fine, Isa, can I pretty please,” he juts out his bottom lip, “with cherries and sprinkles and caramel on top, have my present?”

“I’ll give it to you, but only because of all the dessert references.” I hand over the box.

“You know, you’ve been promising you’re going to give it to me a lot lately.” His lips quirk as he opens the box and takes out the leather bracelet engraved with his name on it.

I ignore his dirty remark, but my cheeks warm. “I got it while I was in Paris. I know it’s not anything super awesome, but there was this guy on the street making them, and it made me think of you.” I flick his wrist, where he already has an array of bracelets. “I wasn’t even positive you’d still be wearing them by the time I got back, since you never used to up until . . .” I shrug, “well, you changed. I wasn’t sure if this bad boy thing of yours was going to be a phase.”

He looks up at me, his expression dead serious. “Is this hot girl thing of yours a phase?”

“It’s not a hot girl phase,” I promise him, although my tone’s a little shaky. “And no, it’s not a phase. But I do need to figure out some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know. Just stuff.”

He stares at me just long enough to make me uneasy then drops the gaze to the bracelet as he ties it to his wrist. “I like it.”

“You don’t have to like it.” But I kind of want him to. “Although, it was way better than the painting my cousin tried to talk me into getting you. You don’t seem like a painting kind of guy.”

He flicks the bracelet on his wrist. “This is way, way better than a painting.” He smiles at me, a genuine smile. “But you know what this means, right? You liiiike me.”

Biting back a smile, I shake my head. “It so does not.”

“Does too.”

“Oh, fine. Whatever.”

“Ha! I won that round.”

“Only because I let you.”

He’s grinning from ear to ear. “I like this.” He points back and forth between the two of us. “We should do this more often.”

“Do what more often?” I ask.

Before he can respond, Braden, one of his stoner friends, strolls up to Kai.

“Hey, did you bring that thing we were talking about the other night at that party?” he asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Kai glances at me, and Braden tracks his gaze. He blinks, either stunned or high—it’s hard to tell for sure, because his eyes are really, really bloodshot.

“Hey,” he says, blinking again as he checks me out, “I know you, right?”

I shake my head, trying not to squirm from his attentive gaze. “Probably not.”

Kai rubs the back of his neck and tensely glances around the hallway. I know what’s coming. Like the time he was caught walking home with me, he’s going to make some lame-ass excuse of why he’s here with me.

“I’ll see you later,” I say, deciding to let him off the hook.

Before anyone can say anything else, I turn around and walk back toward the stairway. As I make my way downstairs, I notice that fewer people are looking in my direction, but some still stare. I ignore the gawking the best I can, but by the time I make it to my locker, I feel sick to my stomach. I have no idea how I’m going through with my plan of making some real friends, when I can barely handle people staring.

Give it time. You’ll get used to it.

That’s what I try to tell myself through my morning classes and during lunch, when I sit at the same corner table by myself, like I did the previous three years. I get desperate enough that I try to spot Kai at one of the tables, but he must leave campus for lunch, because I don’t see him anywhere. I end up eating lunch while texting Indigo, so I won’t have to deal with the staring plague that seems to have taken over my school.

I’m not positive what’s causing the gawking. I haven’t heard any gossip that includes my name and my mental stability, so I don’t think the rumor is causing people to act crazy. Still, the thought hovers there in the back of my mind. What if they all think I’m insane? Do I care? I don’t want to, and the Isa who was overseas wouldn’t, but being back at home, where everyone knows the real me, I kind of do.

By the time the final bell rings, I’ve made a total of zero friends, and strangely, the handful of people I did talk to during my junior year won’t even look me in the eye.

Frustrated, I hurry out of the school, pushing my way through the mob of people on the sidewalk. As I reach the parking lot, my phone buzzes from inside my pocket, so I dig it out.

Indigo: Dude, I forgot how lame high school is.

Me: What r u talking about? You’re at school? What school?

Indigo: I’m talking about the lameness of your high school and all high schools in general.

Me: R u here?

Indigo: Duh. How could I not come pick u up after all those depressing texts u sent me?

My gaze lifts to the parking lot and I spot her, sitting on the trunk of my grandma’s car, with her hair pulled up in a bun, smoking a cigarette. I run to her. I don’t even care how crazy I look at the moment. I’m just so damn glad she’s here.

She hops off the trunk, and I hug the bejesus out of her. “So, I’m guessing by the crazy hugging that your first day totally sucked?” she says as she hugs me back.

“It was awful,” I tell her. “Everyone kept staring, and even my old friends wouldn’t talk to me. The only person who said anything to me at all was Kai, and that’s because he wanted his present.”

“Aw, Kai.” The tone of her voice implies something. “He wouldn’t happen to be around, would he?”

I move back and eye her over suspiciously. “Why?”

She shrugs, dropping her cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with the tip of her boot. “I’m just curious. I mean, other than Kyler, he’s the only person from Sunnyvale I’ve heard you mention. And you’re in love with Kyler, so it makes sense why you talked about him, but with Kai,” she bobs her head back and forth, wavering, “I want to find out why he’s always so stuck in your head.”

“He’s not stuck in my head. I talk about him, because he’s, like, one of the few people who’s ever talked to me at school, and that was only on rare occasions.” I frown as she stubbornly keeps looking at all the people walking by us. “And I have no idea where he is. I haven’t seen him since this morning.” I head for the passenger side of the car. “Please tell me you’re taking me for ice cream, because I’m in desperate need of some sugar.”

Her back stiffens. “We actually need to go straight to Grandma’s.”

I grasp the door handle. “Why? Is everything okay?”

She won’t look me in the eye, which is completely out of character for her. “Something happened between her and your dad. They got in a fight and . . .”

“And what?” I press.

She sighs, meeting my gaze. “And she got a name out of him.”

“She did. Yes!” I fist pump the air then hop into the car, bubbling with excitement. Holy shit, she has a name. A freaking name. I’m so excited I can’t sit still.

Indigo climbs into the car and turns on the engine. “Isa, I don’t want you to get too excited. Grandma may have gotten a name, but your dad wouldn’t tell her anything else. And he’s super pissed. Like, really, really angry.” She backs out of the parking space. “He even broke a vase.”

“That doesn’t matter.” All that matters is I’m about to learn my mother’s name. I can do a lot with a name. I can even track her down if I want to, without my dad’s help, which I plan on doing.

Because like I promised myself in Paris, I’m going to find her, no matter what it takes.