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

“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.”