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

Other than look for my birth certificate. But I’m honestly running out of places to look. There’s only one thing I can think of to do and that’s confront my dad. But I’m not sure if he’ll even acknowledge me asking.

“When they get back from their trip, I’m going to ask my dad if I can go move in with Grandma Stephy, and then I’m going to confront him,” I tell myself with fierce determination. “But right now, I’m going to go get some paint . . . give myself a little break from this house and this room.” I pull a face at the walls as I grab some cash from my nightstand drawer from a stash I collected over the years. Most of it came from my grandpa. Every holiday and birthday, he’d give me a card with at least ten bucks in it.

“For college,” he said simply. “Or just a rainy day.”

I glance out my window at the raindrops beading the glass. “Perfect, a rainy day.” I tuck a few twenties into my back pocket then stuff the rest back in the drawer and collect my jacket from my closet.

I zip up my jacket and head out in my shorts and flip-flops. I’m going to seriously freeze my butt off, but I’ve done the walk to town in sun, rain, and snow before and lived. My outfit isn’t that fashionable or practical for cold weather. Pulling skinny jeans over my knee is like trying to stuff Indigo’s and my movie candy stash into a purse, which never, ever worked—we both have serious sweet tooth issues.

Luckily, I hit the sister jackpot, because Hannah’s nowhere in sight as I head downstairs. If she were, she’d be all over my shorts and hoodie combo.

When I reach the backdoor, I wrap my fingers around the doorknob, count to the three, and barrel outside.

Cold rain instantly soaks through my clothes as I skip down the driveway, moving awkwardly, because I can’t bend one knee. I don’t care though. Rain is awesome. And it smells so great. Seriously, if I could, I’d skip around in the rain all the time.

My hair is drenched by the time I reach the sidewalk, and the flip-flops splash water from the puddles all over the backs of my legs. It reminds me of this one time Kai and I walked home in the rain and we intentionally splashed in all the puddles.

“Isa! What are you doing?!” Someone shouts with a hint of laughter in their voice.

My head whips to the side as I stumble to a stop.

Kai is standing out on the side deck, beneath the shelter of the roof, and I think he might be laughing at me, but the veil of rain crashing from the cloudy sky makes it difficult to see.

“Going to the paint store!” I shout then wave at him and start to skip off again.

“Are you crazy?” he calls out. “You can’t walk to town in the middle of a rainstorm.”

I sigh and slow down again. “I’m not walking! I’m skipping!” My eyelashes flutter against the rain.

“Can’t you wait until it at least stops raining?” he asks, shaking his head as I jump into a puddle.

“No way! It’s either the rain or being in the house with Hannah. And I choose the rain. Besides, rain is awesome!”

I can hear him laughing all the way from over here.

“Would you get your ass over here?” He waves at me to come to him. “I’ll drive you if you really want to go. But it’s too damn cold for you to be playing around in the rain, no matter how cute you look.”

Cute? Did he just call me cute? No, I must’ve heard him wrong.

I don’t go over there right away. Ever since the first day of school, Kai and I haven’t really talked that much. But he’s also skipped out on a lot classes, and the few times he has made a grand appearance, he seems exhausted and out of it. I don’t want to jump to conclusions like the rest of the town, but it’s almost like he wants people to think he’s a troublemaker.

“Would you stop overthinking and get your ass over here?” he yells at me, smiling as he leans over the railing.

“Oh, fine. Take away my rain fun.” I hike up his driveway and dive underneath the shelter of the porch.

“That’s a nice look for you. Totally weather appropriate too,” he teases as he gives a once over to my drenched shorts, jacket, and hair. The black shirt, dark jeans, and a studded belt he’s wearing make him look like he’s trying to go Goth. This isn’t his normal look, so I wonder if he’s going somewhere or just taking his bad boy image to a new level.

I wring my hair out. “I can’t wear anything else other than shorts and sandals until my knee heals; otherwise, the stitches hurt.”

“Stitches?” He frowns. “What happened?”

“I jumped out of a moving car and fell on a piece of glass.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.