The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)

She puts her cigarette between her lips and smoke laces the air as she dazes off at the highway again. “I have this theory that maybe the reason she’s always treated you like shit is because maybe you remind her of a shitty time in her life . . . maybe something shitty your dad did to her that kind of led to the procreation of you.”


It takes a second or two to process what she’s implying. “Wait . . . you think . . .” I shake my head. “No, there’s no way. My dad didn’t have an affair . . . he wouldn’t do that to my mom. Trust me. He does everything she says, sometimes too much.”

Her brows arch. “He wouldn’t, huh? Okay, I guess my theory’s wrong.”

I shake my head, but inside, my wheels are turning. All those times my mother looked at me with such disdain, and sometimes jealousy, are starting to make sense.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” she says then mutters, “Although, I don’t know why. Your mom’s a bitch.” She clears her throat. “But you have to admit it kind of makes sense.”

I lower my head into my hands. “None of this makes sense. Where did you even get this theory? Did you just pull it out of your ass, or is it based on some sort of legit info?”

“I heard a rumor,” she says. “Or, well, I overheard my mom and dad gossiping about your family once, and my mom said something about the other woman, and how it was a good thing your dad didn’t leave you with her.”

Wide-eyed, I lift my head and gape at her. “How long ago was this?”

She shrugs as she puts the cigarette out in a patch of dirt. “I don’t know. Like a few years ago or something.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

“Isa, this is like the longest the two of us have talked. Usually, at reunions, your family stays in a hotel and spends a whole lot of time sitting around in the corner with your noses stuck in the air like a bunch of snobs.”

“My mom makes me do that.” It hits me as I say it, like a bull charging straight into my stomach. “Wait. Am I even supposed to call her mom?” I push to my feet and pace in front of Indigo, reaching full on crazy panic mode. “Or am I supposed to call her Lynn. Oh, my God, I just realized that my sister’s middle name is after my mom’s first name, but I’m named after no one. It has to be true.” I crouch down again as my legs turn into Jell-O. “I don’t even know who my mom is.”

“Hey, chill out.” She scoots toward me to catch my gaze. “My theory is just a theory. And I should probably tell you that I had a theory that Grandpa was reincarnated into Beastie.” She smiles as I blink at her. Wow. She sounds as crazy as . . . well, me. “What? They have the same eyes, okay? And you have to admit it’d be pretty cool if reincarnation existed.”

“That mean, old cat isn’t Grandpa,” I say. “But I get what you’re saying. I need to get some answers before I have a meltdown.”

“Or you could just skip the meltdown and use this as an opportunity,” she suggests with a smile.

“An opportunity for what?”

“To take a self-discovering journey.”

“But I already know who I am.”

She inspects my outfit with her brows raised. “I’m not sure I agree with you.”

I tug on the bottom of my hoodie. “Just because I dress a little different doesn’t mean I don’t know who I am.”

Her head slants to the side as she studies me. “Okay, answer this for me. What’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done?”

“I don’t know.” I try to think of something, and it’s pretty dang sad how hard it is to come up with anything. “I entered a comic contest once. That was really cool.”

“I’m not talking about doing stuff that’s cool. I’m talking about stuff that’s exciting. Like screaming-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-at-a-concert exciting. Dancing-in-a-room-full-of-people-like-no-one’s-watching exciting. Or sporadically taking a trip to nowhere with no plans other than to drive.” She smiles as she gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Or like being kissed in the rain by a total stranger, who you have no plans of calling again.” She looks at me, grinning. “That one I plan on doing while we’re on this little trip.”

“How do you know it’s exciting if you haven’t done it yet?” I ask, tucking my feet under me.

“Oh, Isa, the fact that you ask that means you haven’t nearly experienced enough in your life. Life is all about the experiences, the good ones and the bad ones.” She stands to her feet, yanking me with her. “Stick with me, and I promise that’ll change.”

I almost open my mouth to tell her I don’t want to change, but then I remember her theory, and my grandma and dad’s argument rings loudly in my head. What if Indigo is right? What if my entire life has been a lie? What if the reason my mother—Lynn—has always liked Hannah more is because Hannah’s her daughter and I’m not?

“Okay, I can try to do more things that are exciting, but what about the theory?” I ask as we cross the parking lot.

“What about it?”