The Year I Became Isabella Anders

by Jessica Sorensen

My damn traitor skin heats up again. "Stop being such a perv."

  He giggles. Actually freakin' giggles. And it just might be the adorablest thing ever. But I'm not about to tell him that.

  "You're setting yourself up with these," he says. "Jesus, Isa. What the heck happened to you while you were on that trip? You leave all innocent and come back with a dirty mouth."

  I pinch him in the side again and he ends up dropping one of the bags, and it lands on my toe.

  "Shit, I'm sorry." He sets the other bag down and reaches to touch me then pulls back. "Are you okay?"

  I glance down at my boot. "I'm fine. Totally didn't feel a thing with the boots."

  "Are you sure?"

  I bob my head up and down, and he smiles tensely, fidgeting as he steps back from me.

  Why is he acting like a squirrely weirdo?

  "Come on." He picks up the bags, going right back to the chillaxed version of Kai. "I want to see what you got me."

  Nobody's home. That's the first thing I notice when I walk in. I'm not surprised my family isn't here to welcome me home, but it still hurts and makes me want to find my real mom even more.

  Kai finds his own way to my room through my house, with me tailing at his heels. I'm surprised he remembers where everything is, since he hasn't been here for five years. But he navigates through the hallways easily and makes it to my room.

  The moment he steps inside, though, he frowns. "What happened to all your posters and drawings?"

  Confused, I scramble inside to see what he's talking about. The moment I catch sight of the bare and freshly painted white walls, my jaw collides with the floor. "I don't . . ." I yank my fingers through my hair as I turn in a circle. "Someone took all my stuff down.

  "You didn't take them down?" Kai asks, dropping the bags onto my bed.

  I shake my head as tears burn in my eyes. "They were here when I left. I don't know what happened."

  But really, I do. Either my mom took them down, or it was Hannah's form of revenge. Neither is a good alternative, because both probably mean all my posters and drawings are gone forever.

  What if they're gone? What if I never see some of that stuff again? As depressing as it is, that stuff was a huge part of my life, especially my drawings.

  Reality knocks the wind out of me, and a few tears manage to escape from my eyes.

  "Hey, it's going to be okay," Kai says when he notices the waterworks.

  I feel stupid, like a loser again, who cries over ridiculous drawings and posters, because they mean more to her than they should. "I'm sorry." I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand. "This is so stupid. I shouldn't be crying over drawings, especially in front of you."

  "Hey, I cry too," Kai assures me, pressing his hand to his heart. "And I've cried over drawings and posters before."

  "In front of people?" I question, and he hesitates. "See? That's the difference between you and me. You're not crazy enough to cry in front of other people who could eventually use it against you."

  "I'm not going to use this against you," he promises. "Seriously, Isa. I'm not that big of an asshole."

  "Sometimes you kind of are, though, to me anyway. With everyone else, you're usually so chill, but with me . . . it's like you get your kicks and giggles out of making me uncomfortable."

  He rubs his hand across his jawline, considering something. "Okay, I'll admit I tease you a lot, but only because I'm comfortable around you." When I stare at him in disbelief, he adds, "Well, more comfortable around you than most people." He sighs when I still keep looking at him with skepticism. "Look, when I'm around other people, I'm different--I know this. But everyone expects me to be this intense, serious guy all the time, like Kyler is."

  "I hate to break it to ya, but Kyler's not that intense and serious all the time," I say, remembering how much he laughed when we spent those few weeks shooting hoops and hanging out.

  Kai rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. The guy never, ever cracks a joke. Seriously, he's like the most serious person I've ever met, and honestly, he's kind of fucking boring. And you should hear him talk about sports. Talk about a snorefest." He bobs his head back and lets out a snore, emphasizing his point.

  I try not to laugh, because he's making fun of Kyler, and it shouldn't be funny, yet a strangled laugh flees from my mouth.

  Kai grins at the sound. "See? Deep down, you agree with me. You just don't want to admit it."

  "I don't agree with you," I insist. "Kyler's not boring. He's just quiet and shy."

  He makes a choking, gurgling sound then gapes at me. "Kyler's not shy at all, Isa. He's the most arrogant, self-assured asshole I've ever met."

  "He might be that way to you," I say. "But to me, he seems quiet and nice."

  "Wrong again. He's not nice. Not when you know him like I do." His features harden as he shakes his head in irritation. "My life would've been so much easier if he'd gone farther away for college, but no, he had to go here so he could remind me daily who the better Meyers is."

  Hmm . . . perhaps Kai's one-eighty transformation might have had something to do with his brother.

  "Okay, I get you're not a fan of your brother." I tread with caution, because I don't want to hurt his feelings, but at the same time, I feel bitter over how Kai treated me in seventh grade. While Kyler hasn't been my best friend or anything, he's always been nice to me, said hi to me in the hallways, and always stands up for me while I'm being picked on. Kai, on the other hand, spends most of his time teasing me, and he's never offered me an apology for telling his friend I was a stalker. "But Kyler's been nice to me."

  "I've been nicer to you more than he has." He shifts his weight, seeming uneasy about something. Perhaps how he treated me in the past? I'll never know, since he won't say anything about it aloud. "Maybe not all the time, but definitely more than he has."

  "You've also been mean to me more than he has, too." My hands shake as I remember the day he ripped out my heart and stomped on it.

  "Most of the time, I'm just teasing you." His voice is a drop unsteady as he tiptoes around the big, ugly elephant in the room. "And I only do that, because I'm comfortable around you and you don't expect anything from me." He shrugs, offering me a small, oddly sheepish smile. "You treat me like a normal guy. You never use me to get to my brother." Another shrug, like that's that.

  So, he definitely has issues with Kyler. But now that I think about it, I'm not that surprised. Kai always has kind of lived in Kyler's shadow when it comes to sports and girls and grades. It's not like he's not good at any of those things. It's just that he's always one step behind Kyler, almost perfect, but not quite.

  But he's way funnier.

  Maybe I should tell him that.

  Be nicer to him than he's been to me. Try to cheer him up like I used to.

  "I'm going to stop you right there," he says. "Because I can already see you trying to put me together, and no one can put me together, Isa. I'm all kinds of fucked up." He swings around me and backs for the doorway. "And you still owe me a present for carrying your bags up the stairs. You better make sure to bring it to school with you on Monday; otherwise, I'm going to have to start charging interest." He winks at me before turning on his heels and leaving my room.

  The silence sets in as I take in the bare walls around me. "This is so depressing," I mutter. "There's no way I can look at this for the next nine months."

  An idea smacks me in the head. One that will more than likely get me into trouble with my parents, but fuck it. I'm already on the permanent Hate List with them. Besides, I didn't work so hard to become a more confident person just to flush it down the toilet the moment I got home.

  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?"