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

SHIT HAS OFFICIALLY hit the fan. Because Sunday morning, when I return home from my grandma’s, Lynn is there. And she’s alone.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask as I enter the kitchen, which is still trashed from Hannah’s party she had last night.

“He had to make a quick trip out to Florida for work,” she answers, sorting through the stack of mail on the counter littered with beer cans and plastic cups.

My muscles ravel into knots as I remember how shitty she treated me the last time my dad went on a business trip. “How long will he be gone?”

“A week or so.” She sets the mail down and gives me a look that sends a chill down my spine. “And I’m under strict orders to make sure you do your chores while he’s gone.”

“My room and bathroom are already clean,” I say, hoping Hannah’s friends didn’t trash those rooms too.

“That’s nice, but I was talking about your new, extra chores.” Her smile grows as her gaze sweeps around the kitchen.

“But I didn’t make this mess,” I say, fighting to keep calm, because losing my cool is only going to make this worse. “I wasn’t even here.”

“How do I know that for sure, though?” She grabs the handle of her suitcase and drags it with her as she heads for the doorway. “It makes much more sense to me that you would have the party. Hannah’s too good of a girl. Now hurry and get this place cleaned, so I can give you your list of chores.”

I grip the edge of the counter and bite back a stream of expletives clawing up my throat.

This is going to be a hellishly long week.



For the next week and a half I play the role of Isabella Smellera, cleaning and taking on the role as the maid for my mom and Hannah. I thought my dad would be back by now, but every time I ask Lynn about when he’s coming home, she just shrugs and says, “He’ll be back when he gets back. Now get to work.”

I try to call my dad a couple of times, but my calls go straight to voicemail. I try text and email, but I receive no reply. By the time Friday rolls around, it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen or heard from my father, and I’m beginning to get really concerned that maybe Lynn murdered him on their getaway and dropped his body into the ocean.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Kai says as I express my concern to him during third period. “I know Lynn’s a bitch and everything, but I don’t think she’d kill anyone.” He flashes me a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood. “It’d be too messy for her, and she wouldn’t risk getting blood on her clothes.”

“I hope you’re right.” I add shading to the drawing I’m working on, instead of doing the math assignment.

Kai and I haven’t really hung out very much lately, mostly because I’ve been too busy cleaning the house and cooking for Lynn and Hannah. Same with me and Kyler, but we do have a date scheduled for tomorrow. Now, whether I can get out of the house to actually go on it is an entirely different question.

As for Kai and his issues with his parents, I haven’t had a chance to ask him more about that, but I haven’t noticed any more welts on him or heard any yelling next door. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop keeping an eye on him.

And the kiss . . . well, somehow the two of us have silently agreed never to mention it again. I think about it sometimes, though. Just like I think about Kyler.

I’m a very, very confused girl.

“I’m always right,” Kai jokes, reaching across the row to flick my hair with a pencil. “You should know that by now.”

“Kai and Isa, keep it down,” Mr. Marelli warns from his desk.

Half the class turns and stares at us. While the staring has toned down, I still haven’t made any real friends. I do have a few people I chat with during classes, thanks to Kai and that party, where he introduced me to people.

Kai rolls his eyes, but faces forward in his desk again, and starts scribbling the answers on the assignment sheet. I work on my sketch again, getting lost as I draw the superhero version of me.

“You need a sidekick,” Kai whispers, leaning over in his chair to look at my work.

“I usually have one,” I whisper back as I draw an angled line. “But I thought I’d go solo on this mission.”

“No way. I want to come.” He does his pouty lip, fluttery eyelash move. “Come on. Make me your sidekick.”

Grinning, I press the pencil to the paper and give into his request.

He smiles, relaxing back in his chair with his arms tucked behind his head. “See? The move does work on you.”

My grin grows as I finish the drawing then hold it up for him to see.

“Why does my head look so big?” he wonders, putting the tip of the pencil to his lip.

“It has to be big,” I explain, “in order to fit your superhero name.”

“Which is?”

“Ego Man.”

“Isa, come on,” he whines. “I know you can do better than that.”