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

His fingers drift to his cheek and he winces. “I promise.”


Then he turns his back on me and jogs up the stairs without saying anything else.

I’m not positive I believe he’s okay, but I’m not sure what else to do, other than keep an eye on him.

I head back to the kitchen, feeling sullen.

Kyler has gotten everything cleaned up by the time I walk in, and has his jacket and shoes on, ready to go.

“Everything okay?” he asks as he collects the car keys from the counter.

I nod. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

That’s the second time I’ve lied in the last ten minutes. But who I’m lying to, I’m not quite sure.





BY THE TIME we arrive at my Grandma Stephy’s house, she’s halfway done with baking the cookies. I give her a good, stern lecture for not waiting for us, but she tells me that she doesn’t need my sucky cooking skills tainting her cookies and to go sit my ass down in the living room while she works her Baker Fairy Magic in the kitchen.

“She’s funny,” Kyler says after we settle on the living room sofa.

“Yeah, she’s pretty funny, I guess.” I shift on the sofa, feeling nervous as hell with how close he’s sitting next to me.

“You smile around her a lot,” he remarks as he slides his arm across the back of the chair.

“Do I not smile a lot when I’m not around her?” Do you notice that I don’t?

“I’ve seen you smile a couple of times,” he says. “But not a lot.”

“Maybe it’s because you haven’t been around me a lot,” I reply with a shrug. “Generally, I try to be a happy person, even when things are super sucky. And I’m seriously easy to please. I mean, give me a cookie and a comic book, and I’m like a freaking unicorn sniffing rainbows.”

“A unicorn sniffing a rainbow?” He cocks a brow.

I shrug, picking at my nails. “What? Unicorns are totally crazy happy when they sniff rainbows.”

He chuckles. “Funny. I didn’t know unicorns were real or that they sniffed rainbows.”

“Oh, they’re totally real,” I joke with a grin. “Now, I’m not positive the rainbow part is true, but I like to think it is, because I’m just that awesome.”

“That you are.” He gently tugs on a strand of my hair for God knows what reason. “You remember that time you wore a cape to school?”

I pull a face. “Yeah, I remember. Don’t judge me, though. I was like ten and going through this phase where I wanted to be a witch.”

“No, I wasn’t judging you at all,” he quickly says. “I always thought it was cool you were so comfortable with being yourself.” I glance down at my stylish outfit and he hurriedly adds, “I like this look too. I promise. And you’re still you and everything. And really cool and comfortable with yourself.” He’s rambling and nervous, and I can barely keep up with what he’s saying. He finally takes a breath and shakes his head at himself. “I don’t know what my problem is. You’ve totally thrown me off my game.”

He’s trying to use his game on me?

He moves his arm from the back of the sofa and rakes his fingers through his hair. “You just make me nervous.”

I almost bust up laughing. I’m making Kyler nervous? “Are you being serious?”

He nods, lowering his hand to his lap. “I’m usually better at reading people, but with you . . . I have no idea what you’re thinking.” He waits, like he expects me to tell him.

I shake my head. “There is no way I’m telling you what goes on in here.” I tap my temple with my finger. “If I did, then you might run out the door.”

“I doubt that.” He sits up straight and twists to face me. “But how about we try it and see? You tell me one thing you’re thinking, and we’ll see if it scares me enough that I run.”

“That seems like a game I’ll lose no matter what, because either you leave, or you stay here and think I’m crazy.”

“Okay, well how about this? You just tell me one thing, and I won’t think you’re crazy and I’ll stay.”

“How can you possibly predict that?” I ask amusedly. “Are you secretly a psychic?”

“I have an aunt who is,” he says in all seriousness.

“Really? That’s crazy cool. Does she, like, tell you your fortunes and everything? Do you know when you’re going to die?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m not telling you anything more until you tell me something about you.”

I give an overdramatic sigh. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I press my lips together, thinking, What could I possibly tell him about me that won’t make him think I’m crazy? All my interests are weird, and I don’t think he’d get my obsession with zombies. Maybe I could tell him some of the things I did this summer, like dancing at the club or kissing Nyle . . .

Oh, my God, why would I tell him that? “I skinny-dipped in a pool this summer.” I slap my hand over my mouth. Holy shit. Out of all the things, that’s what I decided to go with?