The First Nine Lives
of
Isabella LaFelini
By
Rhonda Harvey
Copyright © 2014 Rhonda Harvey
E-Book and Cover formatted by Jessica Lewis
All rights reserved. All the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Dedication
One: A “Cat”-astrophe
Two: Definitely Not a Dream
Three: The Family Secret
Four: The Investigation Begins
Five: A New Kind of Trouble
Six: A Close Call
Seven: Remembering Bobby LaFelini
Eight: A Sign
Nine: Good News
Ten: Confusion
Eleven: On the Road
Twelve: Isabella Takes New York
Thirteen: New York Takes Isabella
Fourteen: The Rescue
Fifteen: Blackbeard’s Curse
Sixteen: A Painful Discovery
Seventeen: Isabella Meets Rick
Eighteen: Another Meal at La Bella
Nineteen: Something Fishy in the Neighborhood
Twenty: Meeting the Neighbors
Twenty-One: The Kool-Aid Incident
Twenty-Two: Back on Land
Twenty-Three: Making Contact With a Neighbor
Twenty-Four: A Trip to the Hospital
Twenty-Five: Dr. Pete and the Intruder
Twenty-Six: A Sleepover
Twenty-Seven: Doctor’s Orders
Twenty-Eight: The “Babysitter”
Twenty-Nine: Kidnapped!
Thirty: Another Trip to the Hospital
Thirty-One: Isabella to the Rescue
Thirty-Two: Held at Gunpoint
Thirty-Three: A New Beginning
About the Author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my many former students; you don’t know how much you inspired me and how much I learned from you! This is also dedicated to the English teachers in my life (from high school through college)—Mr. Callahan, Mr. Elston, Dr. Alwes, Dr. Masselink, Dr. Nelson—you all were wonderful and made me want to be better every day! And I can’t forget my mother, who taught me to love the written word by potty training me with a book in my hand!
Isabella came out of a NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project, so I’d be remiss if I omitted my wonderful Greenville, NC writing group, including our fearless leader, Mandy Cumming, her husband, “The Australian” Phil Cumming, and my friend and fellow English teacher, Adria Cintron.
A special thanks has to go out to Adria’s daughter, Bella, my youngest beta reader and sounding board. Bella, you pushed me on to book two…and possibly three…and maybe four…and…
This project would still be sitting on a flashdrive if it weren’t for Jena Benson O’Connor and her wonderful “Book Goddess” sister, Jessica Benson Lewis. Jena, thanks for your encouragement; Jess, thank you for all your hard work!
And finally, a big thank you has to go out to you, my readers. I hope you love Isabella as much as I do!
One: A “Cat”-astrophe
IN HER DREAM, Isabella was chasing butterflies. Large yellow ones. Small green ones. Teeny blue ones. Some were pink and sprinkled with purple polka dots. She tried to catch them, but no matter how hard she chased the fluttering insects, they managed to elude her. She set her feet carefully, feeling her entire body tense as she did. She reached out, nearly grabbing one, but she hadn’t realized how close she was to the cliff’s edge before she lost her footing altogether. As she went sailing through the air but just before she landed in the water, Isabella woke up. Her heart was pounding, and she tried to slow its rapid beat by telling herself, relax, dummy, it was only a dream. She could hear the faint tinkling of her mother’s wind chimes and feel the heat through the sun porch windows. Only a dream. But butterflies? Why on earth was I chasing butterflies? Isabella stretched. She yawned widely and with another stretch and a flick of her tail, she was ready to get up. A flick of her tail? What the …? Isabella jumped up from the sofa and peered into the full-length mirror on the back of the porch door. Oh, my God! Fourteen-year-old Isabella, Isabella who was new to North Carolina, Isabella with the long red hair, Isabella who hated being an only child but loved the time she got to spend with her mom, was no longer the Isabella she knew so well. Isabella LaFelini was a cat!
Isabella stared into the mirror, incredulous, unable to think. Something terrible had happened. She continued to stare, unable to connect with the reflection staring back at her. If she squinted, she could almost recognize her deep green eyes, although now they had a decided slant and a golden tinge. Her long red hair had transformed into reddish gold fur. Well, as cats go, at least I’m very pretty, she told herself, and then scolded herself for being so vain and so stupid. Isabella! You’re a freaking cat! A cat! And with that, Isabella LaFelini fainted.
ISABELLA WOKE UP stiff and a little sore on the carpet in front of the door between the house and the sun porch. How… how did I get here? she asked herself, disoriented and not quite awake. She had a vaguely unsettling feeling that she was forgetting something important. But what? What could she be forgetting? “Ah… ah… choo!” she sneezed. “Ah…ah…choo!” she sneezed again. She looked down at her skinny jeans. Was that…was that cat hair? Nah, she dismissed the thought. We don’t have a cat. I’ve not been near a cat. After all, the one thing I’m allergic to…cats! Can’t be cat hair. But what am I doing here on the floor? The telephone rang in the kitchen, and Isabella stumbled to her feet, sneezing again as she did.
“Hello?” she answered the phone while grabbing a paper towel to blow her nose. “Oh, hey, Ty. What’s going on?”
Tyson Briggs was Isabella’s best friend, at least her best friend in North Carolina. She and he had met on Isabella’s first day of school, and the pair had become fast friends. He reminded her a little of Robbie, the brother of her “bestest” friend in New York—actually in the whole world—Sierra. As a result, Isabella was instantly comfortable with him. It helped that he lived close by and was in agreement with anything Isabella suggested they do on any given day.
“Just wondered if you wanted to go into town with me and my mom in a few,” Ty told her. “She’s gotta go to the store; thought you and I could find something a little more exciting to do than go down to Bonner Point.” She didn’t answer him, so he asked, “Isabella? You there? Iz?”
“Ty, you know I don’t answer to ‘Iz’ or ‘Izzy’ or ‘Bella’,” she answered him. She didn’t tell him that the thought of going to Bonner Point made her uncomfortable, although she didn’t really know why. “Yeah, I guess that’d be cool. When?”
“We’re gonna leave in about fifteen minutes. That okay?”
“Sure,” Isabella told him. “You guys gonna pick me up or…”
“Yeah, we’ll get ya. See you in a few.”
Isabella pulled a ponytail holder off of her wrist and gathered her long mass of deep red hair into a high ponytail. She blew her nose into a paper towel and went into the bathroom to see if she could find her mother’s emergency supply of allergy medicine. Her eyes were beginning to itch—and t
hat usually preceded a full-blown allergy attack. A preemptive strike of allergy medicine might save her from the worst of it.
She took the tiny pill with a full glass of water and dialed the phone. “Luci LaFelini, please.” The hospital switchboard operator put her on hold, and Isabella traced her lips with light pink lip gloss while she waited.
“Hello?” her mother finally answered the phone.
“Hey, Mom, it’s me. Ty called, he and his mom are going to town. Okay if I tag along?”
Luci smiled, glad to have such a responsible daughter. “Of course, it’s okay. Thank you for calling me to let me know, honey. Do you need any money? There’s a ten-dollar bill under the fruit basket on the counter. Help yourself.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Isabella told her. “You’re the best. Not sure what time we’ll be home, but you can always call Mrs. Briggs’ cell phone. You could call mine if I had one…”
“Isabella Rose LaFelini, we’ve had that conversation!” her mother lightly scolded. “Remember what I said? Fourteen is too young. When you turn sixteen. That’s when I’ll get you a cell phone. Not a minute before.”
Isabella sighed, not terribly disappointed as she knew what her mother would say before she even brought up the subject. “Yes, Mother dear.”
Luci laughed. “You know I hate it when you call me ‘Mother dear’, my darling daughter. Let me get back to my patients. Love you, Isabella. Have a good time with Ty, and I’ll try to be home about seven, okay?”
“More overtime?”
It was Luci’s turn to sigh. “You know how shorthanded we are, Isabella. I really do need to get back to work. Love you.” She blew a kiss into the phone. “Mwahh!”
“Love you, too, Mom. Oh, yeah, we’re out of tissues again. I had to blow my nose on a paper towel. Allergies acting up. Gotta go. Bye!” Isabella hung up and returned the phone to its charger. She grabbed the ten-dollar bill from under the fruit basket on the counter and stuffed it into her jeans pocket, just as Ty’s mother honked the horn. “Coming!” Isabella called and went to meet Tyson and his mom.
“Hey, Ty. Hey, Mrs. Briggs,” Isabella told them as she slid into the back seat of Mrs. Brigg’s white sedan. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good to see you, Isabella,” Tyson’s mother told her as she shifted into reverse and eased the car back out of the LaFelinis’ driveway. “Glad you could come along.”
Isabella grinned. “Thanks for asking me along; it was boring being at home alone.” And then, “Ah…ah…ah…choo!”
“Bless you!” Mrs. Briggs and Tyson responded to her sneeze quickly and almost automatically.
Isabella sniffed. “Thank you. Something’s really bugging my allergies today.”
And to Ty, she said, “Remind me to tell you about the weird dream I had. Freaky weird.”
Ty looked a bit concerned. “Your dad?” He knew that Isabella often had bad dreams about her father who had been killed in a construction accident several years before she had moved down to North Carolina from New York.
Isabella shook her head, her ponytail swaying from side to side as she did. “Nope. Not a bad dream, a weird one. I’ll tell ya later,” she added, looking toward Mrs. Briggs as she did.
“Ah, okay,” Ty said, finally understanding that the dream wasn’t something Isabella wanted to talk about in front of his mother. “Hey, Mom, you think you can leave us at the arcade while you shop?”
Peggy Briggs frowned. “Tyson, you know I’m not crazy about that place—there are too many strange characters hanging around there.”
“C’mon, Mom,” Ty pleaded, “it’s just me and Isabella. And it’s broad daylight. Who’s gonna bother us? We aren’t babies. Sheesh. Isabella and I want to try out that dance video game that everyone at school was talking about.” He saw her reflection in the rearview mirror and realized he was making a little headway. “I’ve got my own money. And we’ll come out the minute you’re back to pick us up. Please?”
“All right,” she acquiesced. “But you don’t speak to anyone but each other. And watch for my car. The minute I pull up. Understood?”
Ty grinned widely. “Yep! Thanks, Mom. You’re the best!”
As Peggy Briggs pulled away from in front of the arcade, Ty said to Isabella, “Okay, it’s just us. Tell me about the dream.”
Isabella shrugged. “Well, that’s just it. It was weird. I can’t tell you much because I don’t remember much. I think…I think I was chasing butterflies. And I almost fell into the water. I woke up terrified.”
Ty frowned. “Why would that scare you? Butterflies?”
Isabella sighed as her eyes rolled upward in exasperation. “Ty, I don’t think it was the butterflies that I found scary—I’m not sure, but I think it was the fall.”
“Fall? Oh, into the water. Well, I don’t know why that would bother you much, either. You love the water—you’re practically a fish, you swim so well.”
Isabella sighed again. “I don’t know. I…I felt different in the dream. Like I was me, but not me. Not that that makes any sense at all.”
“Isabella,” Ty was trying to be supportive but was losing patience. “It was a dream. Dreams rarely make sense. You know that. Look how many times you’ve dreamed about…” He stopped himself before he brought up Isabella’s father by name, but the seed of the idea had already been planted.
“Ty, this one was different. I know when I dream about my dad it’s because I’m trying to understand the accident and what happened. This wasn’t like that. It was the weirdest thing. In this dream, I think I was…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “a cat. A cat, Ty. I think I dreamed I was a cat.”
“A cat?” Ty blurted loudly. “But you hate cats. Aren’t you allergic?”
“Shhh!” Isabella hushed him. “Yes, I do. And I am. That’s the point. Why would I dream about cats when I can’t stand to be around them? And I don’t think I just dreamed about cats—I’m pretty sure I dreamed I was one. And get this. I was on the floor and I swear there was cat hair on my jeans when I woke up—and I started having allergy problems!”
Ty frowned. “Hmmm. Maybe it was the power of suggestion. Didn’t Mr. Edwards tell us about that with that “placido” effect?”
“Placebo,” Isabella corrected. “And yeah, that’s probably all it is.” She shrugged and forced a smile. “C’mon, I’m gonna dance the pants off ya!”
And the two friends went off to play “Dance Mania”, forgetting about Isabella’s strange dream. At least for a little while.
Two: Definitely Not a Dream
THE NEXT DAY, Tyson showed up at Isabella’s house unannounced. It was a choice that he would come to regret.
“Isabella?” he called from the door that led from the side of the house into the kitchen. “I know I should’ve called, but I was out on my bike early—thought you might wanna do something…”
“Don’t think I’m up to doing much of anything, Ty,” Isabella told him.
“Where are you?”
“Look down, Ty. It’s me.”
Ty looked down at the fluffy cat in front of him and called into the next room, “Very funny, Isabella. I know you’re allergic to cats, so you really went all out with this joke. Guess that whole dream thing was setting me up. Nice. Where’d you get the cat in the first place?”
“Ty, it’s me, really,” Isabella told him, almost smiling a little as his jaw dropped in disbelief. “Yeah, I know. It shocked me, too, but I’ve had time to get used to the idea.”
“Um, Isabella, I don’t think ‘shocked’ is a strong enough word.” He looked around, as if in search of the source of the prank. After all, it had to be a prank, right? “Whaddya mean, get used to it? Used to it? Isabella, you’re a cat!” His voice grew shrill, “I mean, you’re a freaking cat! A cat! With paws and whiskers and a tail. You’re a cat, girl! A…a…cat!”
“I know! Geez, Ty, give me a break!” She sighed. “I woke up this way. My mom had already gone to work. I’m a freaking cat, Ty! What I don’t know
is why! Or for how long. Or if it’s permanent. Or anything else! You have to help me—I can’t look online or use the phone; I have freakin’ paws!”
“Sorry. You’re right,” Ty was calmer now. “When will your mom be home? Did you call her?” Looking at Isabella’s paws, he winced. “Um…um…sorry,” he mumbled. “Ohmigosh,” he said it as if it were all one word, “Permanent? I mean, could it be permanent? Could you be stuck like that?” Ty’s calm was quickly becoming frantic and shrill again.
“Ty. Take a deep breath—after all, it’s me that’s covered with fur.”
“Um, I think Mrs. Tewksbury said it should be ‘it’s I’.”
“Tyson!” Isabella yelled as loudly as her little cat mouth allowed. “I am a cat. A freaking cat! Do I give a crap about grammar right now?”
Ty shrugged a little and stared at his feet.
“Come into my room. Ah…ah…ah…choo! Ugh, I hate this crap. My nose itches, I need to blow it and I can’t even do it. How stupid. I couldn’t turn into a dog, could I? I’m not allergic to dogs, so nooooo…” She stopped, realizing how silly she sounded. “Never mind. C’mon. Let’s see if we can find anything online. Lucky for us, my mom is working late tonight, so we have all day to try to figure this out.”
“Um, do you want me to pick you up or something?” Tyson asked her hesitantly.
“Do it, and I’ll scratch your eyes out.”
There was never a time when Ty took Isabella more seriously than at that very moment, and he meekly followed her into her room.
“SO WHERE DO we start?” Ty asked her.
“Google ‘changing into a cat’ and see what you find,” she replied sarcastically.
“Changing-in-to-a-cat,” Tyson repeated, typing as he did.
“Ty, you’re an idiot sometimes. You couldn’t tell I was being sarcastic?”
The First Nine Lives of Isabella LaFelini Page 1
