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

“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 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.

But 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 is the suitcases of stuff I brought back with me on 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.





I LEARN THREE things over the next couple of days while stuck at home:

1. Lynn and Hannah hate my new look, and 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, because he keeps staring at me like he’s trying to figure something out, but can’t quite get there.

3. 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 the 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, but 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-invisible.”

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 backwards, 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.”