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

“Were you at a party?”


“I was . . . but not one of those lame-ass parties Kyler always goes to. This party was my kind of party. Not his.”

“Okay,” I say, again sensing tension between Kyler and him.

“Maybe next time you can come,” he says softly. “I mean, I know I’m not my brother or anything, but I can be fun.”

I catch the underlying meaning of his words, but before I can get too worked up, he staggers toward the fence that divides out yards.

“See you at school tomorrow, Isa.” He clumsily hops over the fence and trips up the steps to his house.

“Yeah, see ya.” I gather my things and head inside, trying not to stress over the fact that school starts tomorrow, and I have to go through with my plan to actually try to make friends. But as I lie down in bed to go to sleep, I’m nothing but a bundle of nerves.



I’ve always walked to school, even after I turned sixteen. While Hannah got a brand new car and a pool party for her sweet sixteen, I got her old bike and a cupcake. And while I was glad just to get something, the old bike does me absolutely no good today as I walk to school in black velvet platforms, not made for pedals. Seriously, what was I thinking? Yeah, the shoes looked cute when I bought them, and they are, as Indigo put it, ‘fucking ama-zing’, paired with my knee high socks, denim shorts, and grey crop tee. But by the time I reach school, the killer shoes are filled with my blood.

I’m trying not to limp as I cross the crowded parking lot toward the entrance. I have my attention on my schedule that came in the mail while I was gone, my thumb is hitched through the handle of my bag, and the wind is threatening to ruin my hair. But I’m rocking a side braid with these cool hair rings in it, and I manage to make it safely inside school without a hair moving out of place.

I should probably look up as I start down the hallway, but I want a couple more moments to collect myself before I have to stroll past people who have either never noticed me, or noticed me too much, thanks to Hannah. Even though she’s now at college, some of her younger friends are still hanging around somewhere and might be ready to make fun of me, and God knows what they’re going to say about that stupid rumor Hannah spread at the beginning of the summer about me being in a mental institution.

“Great, I have math first period,” I gripe to myself as I weave my way down the crowded hallway toward my locker with my eyes glued to the schedule. “I hate ma—”

A shiver shoots up my spine as someone grabs me by the waist. Their palms graze the sliver of space between my shirt and shorts, and I just about lose my shit, because I know there’s no way it could be one of my kinda, sorta friends touching me like that.

“What the hell?!” I squeal, reeling around and jumping back.

Kai is standing there, wearing a pair of dark jeans, and a shirt for once—we are in school, after all. His hair is a mad mess, but in a bedhead sorta way, and he’s biting his bottom lip, struggling not to laugh at me.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, shoving his shoulder.

“Clearly making a scene,” he replies, his gaze skimming the hallway.

I glance behind me and cringe. Almost half the people standing near us are gawking, probably because I squealed like a rabid beast. Great. So much for making a good first day impression and not drawing attention to myself.

Facing Kai, I lightly shove him. “Dude, you can’t just grab people like that. You scared the shit out of me.”

“When I grab most girls like that, they like it,” he says with a smirk.

“Well, I’m not most girls . . . and I’m not used to people touching me.” I fidget with a bracelet on my wrist, feeling all sorts of jittery standing here, with half the damn school gawking at me. “You feeling better?”

His brows dip. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, better than you did last night. You were a little out of it.”

His eyes widen. “I talked to you last night?”

I nod, loving how shocked I made him. “You did. You actually yelled up at my balcony just to get my attention. It was very Romeo and Juliet.” I shoot him a grin so he’ll know I’m kidding.

He crosses his arms and shifts his weights. “Did I say anything . . . I don’t know . . . weird?”

When I shrug, he narrows his eyes at me.

“Nothing too weird. Well, other than you declared your undying love for me. Oh yeah, and for zombies.” I smile when he grows even more uneasy. “Relax, you didn’t say anything weird. Although, you did invite me to come to the next party with you.”

“I did, huh?” He rubs his scruffy jawline, musing over something. “Interesting.”

Silence stretches between us, and my thoughts wander back to the people watching us.