The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Alternative Edition) (Sunnyvale Alternative Series Book 1)

by Jessica Sorensen

  Sometimes, she even makes appearances in my daydreams, where she takes me to movies, out shopping, and sometimes, we just spend the entire day riding the Ferris wheel. She never gets angry with me or makes me feel small and insignificant. She even tells me she loves me.

  I wipe a few stray tears from my cheeks then close my sketchbook. I’ve trained myself pretty well not to get too emotional over the stuff they say to me, especially my mom, but I’m not a super robot immune to such human emotion. I’m a seventeen-year-old girl who knows she’s not the best daughter; who, yeah, tests her parents’ patience a lot; and who probably spends way too much time drawing comics and watching cartoons. Still, I want to, just once, hear them say I love you.

  My dad said it a couple of times when I was younger, but it’s been a while. And I’m almost sure my mom has at some point. It’s been so long I can’t remember. I’ve started to fear maybe there’s something wrong with me that makes me so unlovable.

  “It’s not you. It’s them,” I try to convince myself as I curl into a ball with the teddy bear.

  As I lie by myself in my room, though, something I do almost every day, I have to wonder if I’m wrong.

  Maybe there really is something wrong with me.

  Chapter 2

  My dad was right. My grandma Stephy does want me to go overseas with her.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind if I go with you?” I ask her the next morning before I head to school.

  “Why the hell would I?” she asks, being her blunt, doesn’t-give-a-shit self. “Besides, if you go, then I’ll have someone young and fun to hang out with other than those old biddies.”

  “Wait? Old biddies? Who are we going with?” I dig through my dresser, looking for a clean T-shirt. Unable to find one, I end up rummaging one out of the hamper.

  “The rest of the Sunnyvale Bay Community.”

  “So a bunch of old people?” My mood deflates. Then I remind myself it doesn’t really matter who I’ll be going with. Anything is better than being home.

  “Hey, I’m not old!” she argues. “Not even close.”

  “Sorry.” I grab my sneakers from the closet. “I didn’t mean you. I know you’re not old.”

  “Good girl,” she says. “Now, make sure to pack light. I don’t want to be hauling around a bunch of clothes, shoes, and shit we don’t need. Makes the suitcases too heavy and hurts my back.”

  “All right, I will. And thanks again for letting me go with you.”

  “I’m glad you’re going, Isa. We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

  After I say good-bye, I hang up, change my shirt, and put on my sneakers. Then I run a brush through my tangled hair, pick up my bag, and head for the door to go to school, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.

  Going on a trip overseas sounds like a blast, and I can handle going with Grandma Stephy. But going with an entire a group of senior citizens … I wonder if I’ll be the only teenager there.

  Oh, well. It doesn’t really matter. I don’t exactly have a choice either way, so I might as well make the best of the situation. And, hey, maybe a break from my family will be a good opportunity to do some soul searching without the worry of being scrutinized.

  Over the next few days, I finish final exams during the day while packing my bags at night. I spend a whole five minutes saying good-bye to the few friends I have. I’m not super close with anyone, and the see-ya-laters are a depressing reminder of just how much of a loner I am.

  My parents go back to barely speaking to me, although my sister’s been overly chatty. She even convinced her Cheer Posse to do a cheer for me when I was walking across the gym, and then they laughed at me.

  I still don’t really understand why they were laughing. They were the ones who looked like morons bouncing around with pom-poms and chanting a cheer, rhyming dork with joke and spelling my name with a z.

  By the time I’m actually loading up my stuff to go to my grandma’s, I’m stoked to be getting away for a while, even if it’s on a three-month trip with people five times my age.

  “Do you have everything you need?” my dad asks as he loads the last of my suitcases into the back of our SUV.

  I nod, staring at the front window of the house where my mother is watching me with her arms crossed.

  “I should probably go say good-bye to her, right?”

  He shuts the trunk of the car, steps back, and tracks my gaze to the window. “Maybe you should just wave good-bye. Might be easier, since she’s so upset.”

  “Why is she even upset with me? I didn’t really do anything but argue with Hannah.”

  “That’s not what this is about.” He struggles for words and to look at me. Finally, he manages both. “It’s just hard for her sometimes. I think this trip might help … ease some of the tension.” He pats my arm, causing me to jump, and he jerks back. “Sorry.” He massages the back of his neck, squirming. “I’m just going to go tell her we’re leaving. Then we’ll hit the road. We can even get some ice cream on our way out, if you want.”

  Normally, I’d be all over the offer to stop for sugar, but even cookie dough ice cream can’t melt the fact that my own mother doesn’t want to say good-bye to me.

  I slump against the back of the SUV. “Okay. Sure.”

  He hesitates, his lips parting like he’s about to say something. Then he decides against it, rushes up the driveway, and hurries inside the house.

  A few seconds later, my sister pulls up in her shiny silver Mercedes. She honks her horn, scaring the living daylights out of me before she turns off the engine and climbs out.

  “A little jumpy, aren’t ya?” she sneers as she bumps the door shut with her hip. “I guess I’d be, too, though, if I was getting kicked out of the house.”

  “I’m not getting kicked out of the house. I’m just going to visit Grandma.”

  “Keep telling yourself that. I seriously wouldn’t be surprised if I never saw your pasty face again.” She slings the handle of her purse over her shoulder and starts up the driveway. Then she pauses and shoots me a smirk. “Oh! I completely forgot to tell you the fabulous news.”

  She may think she’s perfect, but she’s not, I try to convince myself. See the lipstick on her teeth? It looks like she fed on someone’s blood. Plus, her hair looks kind of frizzy today, like she stuck her finger in a socket.

  I shake my head at myself. Who am I kidding? She’s perfect, albeit evil. Still, that doesn’t seem to count for much with the people I go to school with.

  “Kyler and I are officially a couple.” She flips her hair off her shoulder, her smirk growing.

  “Huh?” I blink at her. What the hell did she just say?

  “Kyler and I are a couple.” She enunciates each word. “You know, our next-door neighbor, who you’ve been in love with since forever.”

  My jaw nearly smacks the concrete. “I-I’m not in love with K-Kyler.”

  “Oh, please. Everyone knows you’ve been in love with him since he gave you that stupid rose, which, FYI, was a pity gift.”

  I want to tell her she’s wrong, that I was in love—in lust—with Kyler before that, but that would only confirm her accusation that I’m in love with her new boyfriend.

  Oh, my God.

  Reality slaps me hard across the face, and my stomach twists. It’s not like Kyler hasn’t dated anyone before. He’s had a few steady girlfriends over the last couple of years, and I’ve always handled that pretty well. But dating Hannah? God, I knew it might be coming, but deep down, I think I was in denial, naively believing that Kyler would never date a person who is so ugly on the inside.

  “He told everyone the next day that he gave you the rose because he felt sorry for you.” She covers her mouth when my expression sinks. “Oh, my God, you didn’t know that? That’s so sad.” She lowers her hand. “And tragic. I can’t believe you’d ever think he’d love someone like you.” Her face twists with disgust. “That god-awful hair. Seriously, who puts green in their hair? And those clothes”—sh
e shudders—“so gross.”

  “I’m not in love with Kyler,” I argue, breathing in and out, trying to fight back the waterworks. “So none of what you’re saying matters.”

  Let her words roll right off you. She’s not a good person.

  “You’re such a bad liar. Always have been.” She turns her back on me and strolls toward the door, her four-inch heels clicking against the sidewalk. “And for the record, Kyler’s an amazing kisser.” She giggles to herself before going inside and shutting the door.

  I ball my hands into fists. “One of these days, I swear to God I’m going to …” I trail off as I feel someone watching me.

  I glance over at the Meyers’ house then internally cringe. Kai’s sitting on the back porch, staring at me. He’s wearing a pair of black board shorts, his hair looks damp, and those intense eyes of his are practically boring a hole into my head.

  Shit. Did he just hear all of mine and Hannah’s conversation? Fuck it. Does it really matter? I’m sure Hannah’s already pretty much told Kyler I’m obsessed with him.

  “You’re going to, what?” Kai asks with his head cocked.

  “Huh?”

  My stomach flips with nerves. If he knows I like Kyler, he’s never going to let me live it down. That’s what Kai has been doing for the last six months—teasing me whenever he sees a good opportunity.

  His lips quirk like he’s fighting back a laugh. “I was just wondering what you were going to do to your sister.” He nods his head at the door. “You never finished your thought, and I’m really curious what your twisted mind is going to come up with this time.”

  My lip curls. I’m not sure if he’s teasing me or being serious. I never do with him.

  “I didn’t finish my thought because I was trying to make it really good, like sickly morbid and full of torture. But thanks for ruining my train of thought.”

  He chuckles. “I’m going to miss this.”

  My brows dip. “Miss what?”

  He raises his head, grinning, and for some reason, that only pisses me off more.

  “Our lovely little chats.”

  I stare at him, unimpressed. “Is that what you call torturing the nerdy next-door neighbor?”

  He presses his hand to his chest. “I’ve never tortured you. That’s your sister’s thing, not mine. I’ve always been nice to you.”

  A disdainful laugh escapes my mouth. “Like the time you told me the stripes in my hair made me look like a rainbow?”

  “Hey, rainbows are cool.” He seems totally amused and has his smoldering let-me-bind-you-in-place gaze going on. It’s driving me absolutely crazy, and I become desperate to win our little argument.

  “Okay, how about the time you ate my science fair project?”

  “Hey, who puts chocolate on their science fair project?” He gapes at me. “Seriously, that was your own damn fault.”

  Okay, he has a point. The chocolate volcano project was kind of a disaster.

  “How’d you know I’m leaving?” I change the subject, wandering toward the fence.

  “You mean, besides the suitcases you just loaded up in the back of the SUV?” He cocks his brow, but underneath the surface, he abruptly grows uneasy, fiddling with the leather bands on his wrists.

  “You heard it from someone.” I eye him over with suspicion. “I can tell. You got all squiggly.”

  He rolls his eyes like I’m being ridiculous then surrenders. “Fine, your sister’s been telling everyone.”

  “That I’m leaving?” My brows knit. “Why would she do that?”

  He scratches the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at me. “Um … well … she’s been telling everyone that you’re being admitted to a mental institution, but I know that’s not true.”

  Invisible pins stab my skin. I don’t want to hate my sister … I really don’t … but I kind of do right now.

  “Why’d she say I was going?” My voice sounds so hollow.

  “That doesn’t matter.” He rises to his feet, steps off the porch, and strides over to the fence. “Where are you going, though?”

  “Overseas with my grandma, which probably sounds lame, but I’m actually looking forward to it.”

  “It doesn’t sound lame at all.”

  “Not even the going-with-the-grandma part?”

  He shakes his head, waving me off. “Nah, grandmas can be cool sometimes. Is yours?”

  “She’s, like, the queen of cool grandmas. Seriously. She’s the one who taught me how to drive. And I’m talking, like, floor-your-car-to-the-max kind of driving. She taught me how to swim, too, in a pool that was closed. We had to sneak in through this hole in the fence. She even let me try beer for the first time.” I pause, realizing something. “You know, without her, I might have ended up lacking a lot of necessary life skills. Well, besides the drinking beer part. I don’t think that’s a life skill.”

  “Oh, that can be a life skill,” he assures me with a devious grin, and I repress one of my own, not wanting to encourage him. “She does sound pretty cool, though.”

  I bob my head up and down in agreement, fully aware of how lucky I am to be going on this trip with the coolest grandma ever.

  “You’ll have to post some pictures so I can see all the awesome things you do,” Kai says, squinting against the sunlight.

  I snort a laugh. “Oh, Kai, you and your silly, little jokes. We both know I’m not cool enough for social media.”

  “That wasn’t meant to be a joke.” He stuffs his hand into his pocket and retrieves his phone. “But if you’re really that anti-social, I’ll give you my number and you can send me all of your awesome photos. It’ll make me feel special, too.”

  I roll my eyes but give him my number so he can text me his. I don’t really think he’s going to do it, but two seconds later, my phone vibrates from inside the pocket of my jeans.

  “Have fun on your trip. And I mean that, Isa. Have fun. You deserve it, more than anyone.” He gives me a strange look as he puts his phone away, like he can’t quite figure something out. Then he swiftly clears his throat. “Yeah, but the whole point of me coming over here was to give you a little advice.”

  I pull a wary face. “I’m not sure I want to hear your advice.”

  He offers me one of his infamous sexy, playful pouts. “Why not?”

  “Because …” I sigh heavy-heartedly when his sexy, playful pout turns into genuine sulking. “Fine. You can give me advice, just as long as it’s not an ‘it’ll get better after high school’ speech. I don’t want to hear any of those. I’ve heard too many.”

  “It’s not one of those, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle through Hannah’s eye.” He draws an X across his chest, giving me a lopsided grin.

  I can’t help grinning goofily back at him.

  “I’m surprised you remember that.”

  “Of course I remember that,” he scoffs. “We used to say it all the time.”

  “Yeah, but that was a long time ago, back when we were actually kind of friends.”

  An awkward quiet fills the air between us as the past hovers over our heads.

  See, once upon a time, Kai and I used to hang out. And not in the way Kyler and I hung out for a few weekends while I helped him improve his free throw skills, and he opened up to me once. Unlike Kyler, Kai and I were actually friends. Well, sort of.

  For most of seventh grade, he walked home with me after school. He always seemed sad about something as we strolled up the sidewalk toward his house. While I could never figure out what had him feeling so blue, I did learn some stuff about him that no one else knew. Like, how he’s secretly into comic books, likes zombie movies, and listens to ’80s punk rock.

  During the time we spent together, I always tried to cheer him up. It was the least I could do for him not being too embarrassed to walk home with me. Sometimes, my jokes made him smile. Other times, he seemed too stuck in his head. Even if the walk was filled with quietness, it was still nice to have a friend.
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  After a few months of walking home together, he started hanging out with me on weekends. We’d mostly stay in my room, and sometimes, we’d go to the park. I was really starting to believe we had a chance at becoming real, seen-in-public friends. Then came the dreaded day when one of his friends caught us hanging out at the park, and he started making fun of Kai for “being in love with a loser.” Kai panicked and told his friend I was stalking him, and that was the last time we walked home together.

  “My advice was actually about your sister,” Kai says, breaking the silence between us. “I was going to say you need to do something to get her to leave you alone. You’ve put up with her shit for too long.”

  I stuff my hands into the pocket of my hoodie. “When you say do something to get her to leave you alone, are you talking like mafia-style, or like, how Penny Milerford got Nora Benninting to leave her alone by punching her in the face? Because I’m not a mobster, nor a crazed honor roll student who may or may not be on crack.”

  “Penny isn’t on crack. That’s just a stupid rumor.” His expression hardens as he backs away from the fence. “People need to stop spreading shit around about other people just because they think something’s wrong.”

  He starts up the porch stairs, shoving his phone into his pocket and knocking something out in the process. The object hits the ground, and I realize it’s a flash drive. Why he’s carrying around a flash drive in his pocket is beyond me. I don’t think too much of it, though, until panic flares in his eyes as he hastily scoops it up and rushes up the back porch of his house.

  Weird, but whatever.

  “Oh, yeah … and, Isa?” he says from over his shoulder. “I meant for you to do whatever you feel you need to do to get Hannah to stop treating you so shitty. Stand up for yourself, okay? She’s not any better than you, no matter what she thinks.”

  “Since when are you so anti-Hannah? You used to flirt with her all the time.”