Текст книги "The Year I Became Isabella Anders"

Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Indigo is parking the car in front of Grandma Stephy’s apartment. I have so much pent up energy inside me that I jump out of the car before it comes to a complete stop. I’ve done the ninja move before, but never in four-inch platforms, and I end up rolling my ankle and eating asphalt as I fall to the ground.

“For the love of God.” I clumsily push to my feet and look at the damage. My knee is bleeding and pebbles are stuck in the open cut. I think a piece of glass might be in there too. I almost throw up. I’m cool with seeing blood and gore on television, but it’s a whole different story when the blood’s gushing out of me. But determined to make it inside, I force the vomit back and pluck out the glass.

“Oh, my God . . .” Oxygen is ripped from my lungs as more blood trickles out of the wound.

“Jesus, Isa, are you okay?” Indigo rushes around the front of the car toward me.

“I’m totally fine.” I can do this. Be tough. I take off, limping up the sidewalk toward my grandma’s place.

“Isa, would you please slow down?” Indigo’s sandals scuff against the ground as she jogs to catch up with me. “You’re leaving a trail of blood all over the ground, for God’s sake.”

I look down and, sure enough, blood is dripping out of the cut, down my leg, and onto the concrete. I gag, but fuse my lips together.

“Holy shit, I think you might need stitches,” Indigo remarks as she bends over and squints at the open wound.

“The stitches can wait until I talk to Grandma.” I hobble toward the apartment again, refusing to look down at the cut.

Cotton candy. Gummy worms. Licorice. I chant in my head, trying to stay calm.

“You’re going to end up with a scar if you don’t take care of it,” Indigo points out, stopping by the front door to light up.

“I’ll take care of it.” I open the apartment door and stumble into Grandma Stephy’s living room.

She’s sitting on the couch, surrounded by tons of used Kleenexes, and her head is in her hands. When I enter, she quickly looks up, blinking her puffy eyes.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” She stands up and winds around the coffee table toward me. “I think I messed up.”

“Indigo says you got a name. Please tell me that’s true.” I hunch over and place my hand on my knee.

Now that the adrenaline rush is fading, the pain is becoming way more knock-me-on-my-ass intense and the vomit burning at the back of my throat is harder to keep down.

“He accidentally let it slip out when he was yelling at me,” she says with a cautious edge to her voice. “But I’m not even sure he realized he said it.”

Unable to stand any longer, I sink down on the floor and straighten my knee. “What happened, anyway? Why was he even here? I thought we were going to do this together?” I blink a few times as everything around me spins.

“Honey, what did you do to your leg?” She kneels down on the carpet beside me to examine the cut on my knee. “My word, Isa. This looks really, really bad.”

“I jumped out of the car and fell.” I slump back, resting my head against the door. “Please, Grandma Stephy, just tell me her name.” Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe through the pain.

“Her name is Bella,” my grandma says right before I pass out.

When my eyelids flutter open, my eyes are instantly assaulted by florescent light, the smell of cleaner attacks my nostrils, and my knee feels like a zombie took a bite out of it.

“Where the hell am I?” I mutter as I sit up.

“Easy, Isa.” My grandma Stephy appears by my bedside, looking paler than normal. “We had to take you to the hospital.”

I take in the privacy curtain, the thin bed I’m lying in, and Indigo sitting in a chair. “How’d I get . . .” I cup my head then my mouth sinks. “Oh . . .” The last few hours rush back to me.

Grandma Stephy pats my hand that’s resting on my stomach. “You’ve never been good with blood, but you worried me to death when you blacked out.”

I look down at my knee, which is now wrapped in a bandage—thank God. “Did I have to get stitches?”

“You did.” Grandma Stephy smoothes my hair from my forehead so she can look me in the eyes. “How are you feeling? About everything?”

“The leg hurts,” I admit. “And the thing with my mom . . . you said her name was Bella.” I smile at that. “I have to be named after her, right?”

“I guess so.” Grandma Stephy glances over her shoulder at Indigo. “Honey, would you mind going and getting me a soda from the vending machine?”

Indigo nods and Grandma Stephy waits until she ducks out from the curtain before she sits down on the edge of the bed. “Isa, your dad knows I told you about your mom. That’s why he came over to my house today.”

“But how did he find out? I didn’t say anything to him.”

“You didn’t have to. He said he knew from the moment you got back from your trip. He said you looked so much like her, and he just jumped to the conclusion that your change came from learning who your mom is.”

“I look like her?” I try not to act too giddy, because Grandma Stephy seems upset, but I can’t help it. I’m totally freakin’ excited.

“According to your dad, you do.” She dazes off into empty space. “I can’t believe how your father acted today. I mean, I always kind of knew he was a spoiled brat, but . . .” She looks at me. “Your grandpa used to spoil him all the time, because he was his only son. Everything Henry wanted, your grandpa gave him. I knew one day it would backfire, but the way he treated me,” she shakes her head, “I just can’t believe that man yelling at me today is my son.”

“I’m sorry. I feel like this is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. He never should’ve kept you in the dark like he did. But what I don’t get is how on Earth he thought I told you how your mother looked, and all the other stuff he was saying. He acted like I somehow found out everything about her and told you.”

“Maybe he thought you hired a private investigator.” I shift my leg into a more comfortable position as the low ache ignites into a fiery pain.

“Maybe.” She mulls over something, tousling her short hair with her fingers. “I don’t know, though. I’d have to have a starting point for that, which I don’t.”

“But there has to be a starting point. I mean, if she had me and I lived with her for a while, it’d be documented, like say with a birth certificate.”

“You sound like a mystery novel right now, Isa,” she says with a thoughtful smile.

“Well, I do read them a lot,” I admit. “But I’m just saying, her name has to be on it, doesn’t it?”

She promptly shakes her head. “I know where you’re going with this, and the answer is no.”

I give her my most innocent look, my lips parting, my eyes widening. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your father is already upset as it is,” she continues, ignoring me. “If he caught you snooping around,” she shakes her head in dismay, “I don’t even want to go there.”

“He’s not going to hurt me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I know he won’t hurt you, but with how they treat you now, and if Lynn gets involved in this . . .” She sighs heavily as she checks the screen of her phone. “I really think you should reconsider my offer to come live with me. Your father won’t be happy about it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight it. He’s proved way too many times that he doesn’t deserve to have you around.”

“I don’t think he’d care,” I say, repositioning my leg.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she tells me with a heavy-hearted look. “In fact, he might have mentioned something about me staying away from you while he was mad. And he’s probably going to yell at me when he gets here.”

My mouth curves to a frown as my shoulders slump. “He’s headed here? Why?”

“Because he’s your guardian and you’re on his insurance.” She covers her hand over mine. “Don’t worry. He’s just going to be angry with me.”

“Well, I’m going to let him know this is all my fault.” I grip her hand, trying to tell myself that everything will be okay. “I’m sure once he realizes that, he’ll let me see you again.” Besides, there’s no way Lynn would ever let my dad try to keep me at our house.

“I’m not sure he’s going to change his mind about this. Usually, I’d say yes—that his threat was one of his temper tantrums—but this time he seemed pretty dead set on you keeping your distance from me.” Determination fills her eyes. “I can make it happen, Isa. Just say you want to live with me, and I’ll make sure to get you out of that house.”

I take in her kind eyes that have dark circles under them, and her pale skin. She looks way more worn out than the Grandma Stephy I know. The fight she had with my dad today must’ve gotten to her more than she’s letting on.

“I’m fine,” I assure her as confidently as I can. “Besides, I don’t want to have to change schools and be known as the new girl for my senior year.”

“You never know. Being the new girl might give you a chance at a fresh start, which was what you and Indigo were always yammering about during the trip. Every damn night, that’s all I heard while I was trying to fall asleep.” She tries to appear annoyed, but a trace of a smile forms at her lips.

She’s right. Starting a new school could give me a fresh start, and hey, maybe I’d even make some new friends and no longer have to be Loner Girl. But putting more stress on Grandma Stephy is definitely something I don’t want to do.

“Can we talk about me living with you in a couple of weeks? Maybe after my dad’s cooled off, he might be more willing to agree to let me go.” I’m almost certain he will. It’s not like he wants me there anyway.

“Maybe.” She sounds pretty skeptical, though, which makes me wonder exactly what was said during their argument. Her shoulders slump forward as she sighs. “If that’s what you want. But only if you promise to call me the moment things get too bad.”

Things have been bad for years now, but I don’t point that out. “All right, I promise.” And just because I know it’ll make her smile, I stick out my pinkie. “In fact, I pinkie swear.”

She shakes her head, but her smile breaks through and she hitches her pinkie with mine.

The moment we pull away, my dad comes storming in.

“Get. Out.” He looks at Grandma Stephy as he points toward the exit. “Now.”

“Watch your tongue, young man.” Grandma Stephy collects her purse from a chair and slings the handle over her shoulder. “You might think it’s okay to talk to your mother like this, but it’s not. You will respect me.”

“I’ll respect you as much as you respect me,” he growls, stepping toward her. “Telling Isa what you did. You had no right.”

“I’m not going to get into this with you again,” she replies as calmly as she can. “I’m going to go home, and I’ll call you in a few days when you’ve calmed down.”

“Don’t call ever again,” he shouts after her as she walks out of the room. “And you’re never to see Isa again.”

“Dad, stop,” I hiss. “Leave Grandma alone. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

My dad’s attention whips back to me and, by the anger in his eyes, I expect him to yell at me. But when he speaks, he’s unsettling composed. “We’re not going to talk about this ever again. No mention of it, okay?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m going to mention it. A lot. And I’m going to bug you until you tell me who my mom is.”

He ignores me, his back as stiff as a board. “I’m going to go get the doctor.”

Before I can get another word out, he leaves the room.

I grit my teeth, more furious than I’ve ever been. I make another vow to myself right then and there that the second I get home, I’m going to get my hands on my birth certificate.

OKAY, SO I might have been too confident at the hospital about how easy it was going to be to get ahold of my birth certificate. I’ve been searching the house for days and haven’t stumbled across it yet. I did find Hannah’s in a trunk in my parent’s room, so logically it seemed like mine should be in there too. But nope. Not even my social security card was in there. I even tried looking for information on the Internet, but all that came up under my name was my blog and the last entry I made on it, where I broke down and rambled on about my search for my mother.

I thought about deleting the post right after I wrote it, but since I have three followers and none of them are from around here—except for Grandma Stephy—I decided it’s okay to leave it up. Plus, it felt kind of good to talk about it aloud . . . well, aloud in a way.

To add more complication to my life, Lynn and my dad have gone into Isabella Doesn’t Exist Mode. They refuse to acknowledge when I’m in the room, when I speak, or even when I ‘accidentally’ dropped a glass cup on the floor to try to get their attention. My dad did make eye contact with me a couple of times, but mostly he just stares at me like he’s seen a ghost. The look is honestly creeping me out.

If it weren’t for Hannah, I’d seriously believe I somehow got ahold of an invisibility cape and am unintentionally wearing it. But she lets me know I still exist in the visible realm, in a very, very Hannah-like way.

“What’s up with those god awful shoes?” she asks Saturday morning as I enter the kitchen to get some breakfast. She’s wearing her pajamas with no makeup on and her hair’s a mess.

I glance down at the flip-flips on my feet. “I have to wear flats because of this.” I point to the bandage on my knee that covers the stitches.

“You look fucking stupid. Like you’re going to the beach or something, which is just dumb since we live in the mountains and it’s September. Plus, you really need a mani/pedi if you’re going to wear stuff like that,” Hannah sneers as she breaks apart a granola bar. Once it’s in half, she reads the side of the box. “So that makes it seventy-five calories,” she mutters to herself.

All the things I wish I could say to her burn at the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back, mostly because I’m not in the mood to war with her.

While she’s calorie counting, I steal a vanilla cupcake from the platter on the kitchen island and a soda from the fridge. As I’m hurrying out of the room, her eyes zero in on me.

“Ew, is that what you’re eating for breakfast?” she says, glaring at the cupcake in my hand. “You’re going to get fat if you eat like that.”

“I always eat like this.” I lick a huge glob of frosting off the top of the cupcake. “It’s so yummy.”

She practically drools as she eyeballs the delicious treat in my hand, and I find it oddly satisfying, knowing she wants to eat the cupcake, but won’t.

“Good luck keeping the weight off,” she hollers after me as I dash out of the kitchen. “Oh yeah, and Isa!”

“So close,” I mumble to myself. Then I lean back and pop my head into the kitchen. “Yeah?”

“Mom and Dad wanted me to tell you something.” She drums her manicured nails against the granite countertop. “Hmmm . . . I think it was important, but I can’t remember what it is.” A smirk curls at her lips. “Oh, I remember. They told me to tell you that they loved you, to be safe, and that if you need anything to call them.”

“They did?” I ask then a second later realize my mistake. But it’s too late. She’s already grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Oh, wait,” she says with a fake laugh. “That message was for me. Not you.” She stands up from the barstool with half a granola bar in her hand. “They wanted me to remind you that you’re not allowed to see Grandma Stephy, and to make sure to clean the entire house while they’re gone.” She skips out of the kitchen, intentionally bumping me into the wall as she passes by me.

I’m unsure if she’s telling the truth or not, but I’d be lying if it didn’t gut me apart. I hate that there’s a huge chance she’s not lying.

By the time I make it to my room, my eyes are watery, my chest aches with loneliness, and I’ve wolfed down most of the cupcake. I pop the tab on the soda and take a swig before setting the can down on the nightstand. Then I stare at my plain white walls that are patched up from all the tacks and nails I used to hold up my drawings and posters. Indigo has yet to make it over to paint the mural, because we haven’t really gotten a chance. I know if my parents are around when she comes over they’ll put a stop to our painting and punish me big time. If I do paint it while they’re gone, it’ll take them some time to discover what I’ve done, since they’ve gone back to never coming up to my room.

I decide to text Indigo so we can put the mural plan in motion, since my parents are on vacation for the weekend.

Me: Hey, u wanna come over and paint my wall or what?

Indigo: Sorry! Can’t today. I have a job interview.

I’m mildly bummed, but super excited for her.

Me: Where?!

Indigo: At that art gallery I told u about.

Me: Yay! I’ll keep my fingers crossed for u.

Indigo: U better. If I get this job then I can get my own place. No offense to Grandma Stephy, but I’m getting a little tired of Friday night poker at the community center. Plus, that Harry dude has been coming over a lot. I seriously can’t look either one of them in the eye when they’re together.

Me: LOL. I still can’t believe we walked in on them.

Indigo: I wish I could forget . . . the sounds . . . they still haunt my nightmares.

Me: But she seems happy with this Harry dude, right?

Indigo: She really does.

Me: Good. I want her to be happy. And fingers and toes crossed u get the job!

Indigo: Thanx! Let u know when I do. Rain check on the room painting.

Me: Yep! Might go get paint supplies today, since I don’t have anything else to do.

Other than look for my birth certificate. But I’m honestly running out of places to look. There’s only one thing I can think of to do and that’s confront my dad. But I’m not sure if he’ll even acknowledge me asking.

“When they get back from their trip, I’m going to ask my dad if I can go move in with Grandma Stephy, and then I’m going to confront him,” I tell myself with fierce determination. “But right now, I’m going to go get some paint . . . give myself a little break from this house and this room.” I pull a face at the walls as I grab some cash from my nightstand drawer from a stash I collected over the years. Most of it came from my grandpa. Every holiday and birthday, he’d give me a card with at least ten bucks in it.

“For college,” he said simply. “Or just a rainy day.”

I glance out my window at the raindrops beading the glass. “Perfect, a rainy day.” I tuck a few twenties into my back pocket then stuff the rest back in the drawer and collect my jacket from my closet.

I zip up my jacket and head out in my shorts and flip-flops. I’m going to seriously freeze my butt off, but I’ve done the walk to town in sun, rain, and snow before and lived. My outfit isn’t that fashionable or practical for cold weather. Pulling skinny jeans over my knee is like trying to stuff Indigo’s and my movie candy stash into a purse, which never, ever worked—we both have serious sweet tooth issues.

Luckily, I hit the sister jackpot, because Hannah’s nowhere in sight as I head downstairs. If she were, she’d be all over my shorts and hoodie combo.

When I reach the backdoor, I wrap my fingers around the doorknob, count to the three, and barrel outside.

Cold rain instantly soaks through my clothes as I skip down the driveway, moving awkwardly, because I can’t bend one knee. I don’t care though. Rain is awesome. And it smells so great. Seriously, if I could, I’d skip around in the rain all the time.

My hair is drenched by the time I reach the sidewalk, and the flip-flops splash water from the puddles all over the backs of my legs. It reminds me of this one time Kai and I walked home in the rain and we intentionally splashed in all the puddles.

“Isa! What are you doing?!” Someone shouts with a hint of laughter in their voice.

My head whips to the side as I stumble to a stop.

Kai is standing out on the side deck, beneath the shelter of the roof, and I think he might be laughing at me, but the veil of rain crashing from the cloudy sky makes it difficult to see.

“Going to the paint store!” I shout then wave at him and start to skip off again.

“Are you crazy?” he calls out. “You can’t walk to town in the middle of a rainstorm.”

I sigh and slow down again. “I’m not walking! I’m skipping!” My eyelashes flutter against the rain.

“Can’t you wait until it at least stops raining?” he asks, shaking his head as I jump into a puddle.

“No way! It’s either the rain or being in the house with Hannah. And I choose the rain. Besides, rain is awesome!”

I can hear him laughing all the way from over here.

“Would you get your ass over here?” He waves at me to come to him. “I’ll drive you if you really want to go. But it’s too damn cold for you to be playing around in the rain, no matter how cute you look.”

Cute? Did he just call me cute? No, I must’ve heard him wrong.

I don’t go over there right away. Ever since the first day of school, Kai and I haven’t really talked that much. But he’s also skipped out on a lot classes, and the few times he has made a grand appearance, he seems exhausted and out of it. I don’t want to jump to conclusions like the rest of the town, but it’s almost like he wants people to think he’s a troublemaker.

“Would you stop overthinking and get your ass over here?” he yells at me, smiling as he leans over the railing.

“Oh, fine. Take away my rain fun.” I hike up his driveway and dive underneath the shelter of the porch.

“That’s a nice look for you. Totally weather appropriate too,” he teases as he gives a once over to my drenched shorts, jacket, and hair. The black shirt, dark jeans, and a studded belt he’s wearing make him look like he’s trying to go Goth. This isn’t his normal look, so I wonder if he’s going somewhere or just taking his bad boy image to a new level.

I wring my hair out. “I can’t wear anything else other than shorts and sandals until my knee heals; otherwise, the stitches hurt.”

“Stitches?” He frowns. “What happened?”

“I jumped out of a moving car and fell on a piece of glass.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

“Very badass.” He stares at me long enough to make my insecurity go up about a thousand notches. “I was actually just teasing you about your clothes. Although, you definitely pull off the wet clothes look.” He tugs on a wet strand of my hair and dazzles me with a lopsided smile. “Relax, Isa. I’m not making fun of you. Never have.” His smile broadens. “And you look fine in wet clothes. But cold.” He nods at the door. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

I wrap my arms around myself as I shiver. “I am kinda freezing my ass off.” My teeth clank together as the chattering sets in. “But don’t worry, I’m tough.”

“I know you are.” He winks at me for God knows what reason. I must give him a funny look, because he laughs and says, “Relax, I don’t bite,” before opening the door.

We step inside the washroom and I slip off my shoes so I won’t track mud all over the hardwood floors.

“You should take your jacket off too,” Kai says as he shuts the door. “My mom is weird about us tracking water through the house.”

Nodding, I unzip my jacket and slip my arms out of my sleeves. Kai watches me from the doorway like I’m the most fascinating thing in the world as I hang it up on the hook near the door. Thankfully, my shirt’s fairly dry, and after losing the cold, wet jacket, my body temperature starts to warm up again.

“So . . .” I wrap my arms around myself more. I’ve never been in his house before, and I feel so nervous. “You said you could take me to the store.”

He nods, backing through the doorway and into the kitchen with his eyes on me. “I can give you a ride when I head out to a party if you want.”

“Okay,” I confusedly follow him into the kitchen, “but that means I’d have to walk home.” I hold up my hands when he arches a brow at me. “Which is totally fine by me.”

He scoops up an apple from a basket on the counter. “It’ll probably be late when I head out. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be walking around in the rain while it’s late.”

“Um . . .” Okay, I so don’t get guys. Didn’t he offer to take me to the store? So why does it sound like he doesn’t want to now? “I guess I can just walk there right now then.”

He bites into the apple and studies me while chewing. “Or, you could just go with me.”

“To a party with you.”

He chuckles, wiping juice from his chin with his sleeve. “You don’t have to sound so disgusted when you say it. I promise I’m not that gross.” He wavers, bobbing his head from side to side. “Now the party on the other hand, I’m not going to make any promises.”

“I don’t think you’re gross. I’m just confused.”

“Over?”

“Over you inviting me to one of your parties. I mean, I know you said that when you were drunk, but I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I was—am. And it’s not my party. It’s Bradon’s.” He takes another bite of the apple. “You know. That guy you met at my locker.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I say, trying not to think about how he blew me off the moment Bradon showed up.

“Something’s up,” Kai accuses, eyeing me down. “You have a tone.”

I shrug, feigning dumb. “That’s just how my voice sounds.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He sinks his teeth into the apple again. “You don’t like Bradon.”

“I don’t even know Bradon, other than the two seconds we met at your locker.”

“Then what’s with the tone?”

I chew on my bottom lip and shrug.

He gives me a stern look. “Isa, don’t make me get it out of you.”

I roll my eyes. “You say that like you have the power to actually make me. And you don’t, unless you’re secretly a wizard.”

He smashes his lips together, suppressing a laugh. Then, with his gaze trained on me, he sets the apple down on the counter and cracks his knuckles. “I do know how to make you, even if I don’t have magic powers. Well, unless you’ve become less ticklish over the last five years.” He bedazzles me with an arrogant grin as I step away from him.

“You promised me when I told you my kryptonite that you’d never use it against me,” I gripe as I take another step back. But this time, he matches my move, stealing the space I put between us. “Kai, I’m serious. You promised you wouldn’t ever tickle me.”

“I don’t remember making such a promise.”

“Oh, yeah, well . . .” I frantically search for a way to stop him.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so scared. There’s nothing to get scared about. It’s just a little tickling.” He innocently bats his eyelashes at me

“Oh yeah, well . . . FYI, you just fluttered your eyelashes like a girl.” I know it’s a lame attempt to get him to stop, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment.

Of course, he finds my attempt more amusing than annoying, and even laughs. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to think of a better insult, but I’m blindsided as he barrels at me with his fingers ready to attack my sides.

“Kai! Stop!” I squeal, hunching over and trying to protect my sides with my arms. I snort a big old pig laugh as he tickles the air out of me. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to tell everyone at school that you know what kryptonite is and that you used to want to be Superman.”

“That was in the seventh grade.” He continues tickling me. “That stuff doesn’t matter anymore.”

I swing around him and skitter around the kitchen island, but he catches the back of my shirt. “So, you just outgrew that phase then, huh?” I ask between my laughs as he drags me back toward him.

“No, I still think it’d be pretty cool to be Superman.” His fingers dig into my sides, his chest is pressed against my back, and his warm breath is brushing the back of my neck. “I just don’t give a shit if anyone finds that out anymore.”

When his fingers stop moving, I peek up at him. “You’re saying that you’ve changed since seventh grade? That you’re not that guy anymore who wants to be so popular?” I roll my eyes just to bug him.

“I’m not even close to that guy anymore,” he promises me, with his hands on my waist. “And it’s not that crazy to change over five years. You changed over three months.”

“Okay, I get your point, I guess, but it’s still kind of hard to believe you’ve changed that much.” This time, I do have a tone.

He sighs heavily. “Isa, I really am sorry I was a dick to you back then. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was dealing with a lot of shit, and . . .” He shrugs, which looks awkward, since he still has his hands on me and his chest aligned with my back. “I’ve wanted to apologize to you for a while, but every time I say anything to you, you’d act like I was the most annoying person in the world. But I get it. I totally deserve for you to treat me like that.”

“You can be the most annoying person in the world,” I joke, but my emotions get the best of me and my voice cracks. “It’s okay, I guess. I mean, I get it. We were different people back then.”

“It’s not okay. And I’m going to make it up to you. Somehow.”

“You don’t have to do that. The apology was enough.” I pause. “I am a little confused about something, though. All during school last year, you teased the crap out of me. It didn’t seem like you were that sorry.”

“My teasing is playful,” he insists, his hands sliding around to my stomach. “I’ve told you that already.”

“Then why did you act like a weirdo when Bradon came up to us while we were talking at your locker?” I decide it’s time to be blunt, instead of tiptoeing around everything. Like in London, when I kissed Nyle. I want to be that girl again and stop letting being home get me so down. “Because it felt like you were acting weird, because . . . you were embarrassed to be seen with me.” My chest tightens as I think about all the times people were embarrassed to be seen with me. “Which I totally get. I know I’m not even close to being popular or anything, and everyone keeps staring at me like I’m some fungus that crawled out of a swamp.”

A strange look crosses his face that I can’t decipher. “You think they’re staring at you, because they think you’re a fungus that crawled out of a swamp?”

“I don’t know,” I say, puzzled over the odd look he’s giving me. “I mean, they probably don’t literally think I’m fungus, but they definitely stare at me like I am.”

“That’s not why they’re staring at you. I promise.”

“I don’t really care why they’re gawking. I just want them to stop. It makes me feel self-conscious, and I’ve had way too much of that in my life. That’s what I loved about being overseas. No one knew me, so I never had to worry about people making fun of me.”