The Year I Became Isabella Ande - Jessica Sorensen Page 0,48
that,” Hannah sneers as she breaks apart a granola bar. Once it’s in half, she reads the side of the box. “So that makes it seventy-five calories,” she mutters to herself.
All the things I wish I could say to her burn at the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back, mostly because I’m not in the mood to war with her.
While she’s calorie counting, I steal a vanilla cupcake from the platter on the kitchen island and a soda from the fridge. As I’m hurrying out of the room, her eyes zero in on me.
“Ew, is that what you’re eating for breakfast?” she says, glaring at the cupcake in my hand. “You’re going to get fat if you eat like that.”
“I always eat like this.” I lick a huge glob of frosting off the top of the cupcake. “It’s so yummy.”
She practically drools as she eyeballs the delicious treat in my hand, and I find it oddly satisfying, knowing she wants to eat the cupcake, but won’t.
“Good luck keeping the weight off,” she hollers after me as I dash out of the kitchen. “Oh yeah, and Isa!”
“So close,” I mumble to myself. Then I lean back and pop my head into the kitchen. “Yeah?”
“Mom and Dad wanted me to tell you something.” She drums her manicured nails against the granite countertop. “Hmmm . . . I think it was important, but I can’t remember what it is.” A smirk curls at her lips. “Oh, I remember. They told me to tell you that they loved you, to be safe, and that if you need anything to call them.”
“They did?” I ask then a second later realize my mistake. But it’s too late. She’s already grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Oh, wait,” she says with a fake laugh. “That message was for me. Not you.” She stands up from the barstool with half a granola bar in her hand. “They wanted me to remind you that you’re not allowed to see Grandma Stephy, and to make sure to clean the entire house while they’re gone.” She skips out of the kitchen, intentionally bumping me into the wall as she passes by me.
I’m unsure if she’s telling the truth or not, but I’d be lying if it didn’t gut me apart. I hate that there’s a huge chance she’s not lying.
By the time I make it to my room, my eyes are watery, my chest aches with loneliness, and I’ve wolfed down most of the cupcake. I pop the tab on the soda and take a swig before setting the can down on the nightstand. Then I stare at my plain white walls that are patched up from all the tacks and nails I used to hold up my drawings and posters. Indigo has yet to make it over to paint the mural, because we haven’t really gotten a chance. I know if my parents are around when she comes over they’ll put a stop to our painting and punish me big time. If I do paint it while they’re gone, it’ll take them some time to discover what I’ve done, since they’ve gone back to never coming up to my room.
I decide to text Indigo so we can put the mural plan in motion, since my parents are on vacation for the weekend.
Me: Hey, u wanna come over and paint my wall or what?
Indigo: Sorry! Can’t today. I have a job interview.
I’m mildly bummed, but super excited for her.
Me: Where?!
Indigo: At that art gallery I told u about.
Me: Yay! I’ll keep my fingers crossed for u.
Indigo: U better. If I get this job then I can get my own place. No offense to Grandma Stephy, but I’m getting a little tired of Friday night poker at the community center. Plus, that Harry dude has been coming over a lot. I seriously can’t look either one of them in the eye when they’re together.
Me: LOL. I still can’t believe we walked in on them.
Indigo: I wish I could forget . . . the sounds . . . they still haunt my nightmares.
Me: But she seems happy with this Harry dude, right?
Indigo: She really does.
Me: Good. I want her to be happy. And fingers and toes crossed u get the job!
Indigo: Thanx! Let u know when I do. Rain check on the room painting.
Me: Yep! Might go get paint supplies today, since I don’t have anything else to do.
Other than look for my birth certificate. But I’m honestly running out of places