“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 be so much easier if he went farther away for college, but no, he has to go here so he can remind me daily who the better Meyers is.”
Hmm … Perhaps Kai’s one-eighty transformation has something to do with his brother.
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 stood up for me when I was 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.
“Okay, I get you’re not a fan of your brother.” I tread with caution, not wanting to hurt his feelings. At the same time, I feel bitter over how Kai treated me in seventh grade. “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 out loud. “Maybe not all the time, but definitely more than he has.”
“You’ve also been mean to me when he never has.” My hands shake as I remember the day he ripped out my heart and stomped on it.
“I told you; 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. 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.
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. “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, right as his phone pings from inside his pocket. Pausing beside me, he fishes his phone out and checks the message.
I don’t intentionally try to be nosey, but I catch a glimpse of the opened text on the screen. I mentally scratch my head, because all that’s on there is a bunch of numbers, letterings, symbols, and backslashes, like a computer code.
What on earth? Since when did Kai get into computer stuff?
After he reads the message, he puts the phone away and backs for the doorway. “And Isa, 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, or 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 in 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.
Chapter 10
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, though 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, 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 good-bye.
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 until at least 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. 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. 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 for
cing myself to think about something other than my mom.
That becomes increasingly complicated when I hear the front door open. The sound of voices fills the house, and I cringe, deeply considering the idea of staying in my room for all of eternity. Eventually, I’ll have to face them, though, so I might as well rip the Band-Aid off now. Besides, maybe I can get to the bottom of where the hell my drawings ended up and if Hannah has anything else planned for me.
Mustering up every ounce of courage I gained on the trip, I square my shoulders and march downstairs. 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. I 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 have no right to treat me the way you do, 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.
A sudden, random thought occurs to me then. What if Lynn sent me those texts? She hates me enough, and she’s always known I’m not her daughter.
I cast a glance in Hannah’s direction. Or was it her? She hates me just as much and has spent years going out of her way to make me miserable.
Dammit! This is driving me mad! How do I get to the bottom of this?
“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 before 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 I 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.
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 are the suitcases of stuff I brought back with me from 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.
Chapter 11
I learn three things over the next couple of days:
1. Lynn and Hannah hate my new look. They 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. He keeps staring at me like he’s trying to figure something out but can’t quite get there.
3. The person sending me the texts has gone MIA. I have a feeling that the storm isn’t over yet, though. In fact, I have an unsettling feeling things are just getting started, that this is the just the lightning before the storm.
To attempt to calm my nerves, I tried to sneak a peek at Hannah’s and Lynn’s phones, just in case they were just blocking their numbers or got new phone numbers altogether. Lynn’s phone was clean of anything weird, but Hannah’s phone has a password on it, so I couldn’t get access to her texts.
On a positive note, 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 my 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, yet 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-invi
sible.”
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 backward, 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.” He drifts off. “Maybe too much fun sometimes …” He dazedly shakes his head. “In fact, I think my fun might have gotten me into some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” I ask worriedly.
Instead of answering me, he shakes the confusion away and staggers toward the fence that divides our 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.
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.
The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Alternative Edition) (Sunnyvale Alternative Series Book 1) Page 10
