“My advice was actually about your sister,” Kai says, breaking the silence between us. “I was going to say you need to do something to get her to leave you alone. You’ve put up with her shit for too long.”
I stuff my hands into the pocket of my hoodie. “When you say do something to get her to leave you alone, are you talking like mafia-style, or like, how Penny Milerford got Nora Benninting to leave her alone by punching her in the face? Because I’m not a mobster, nor a crazed honor roll student who may or may not be on crack.”
“Penny isn’t on crack. That’s just a stupid rumor.” His expression hardens as he backs away from the fence. “People need to stop spreading shit around about other people just because they think something’s wrong.”
He starts up the porch stairs, shoving his phone into his pocket and knocking something out in the process. The object hits the ground, and I realize it’s a flash drive. Why he’s carrying around a flash drive in his pocket is beyond me. I don’t think too much of it, though, until panic flares in his eyes as he hastily scoops it up and rushes up the back porch of his house.
Weird, but whatever.
“Oh, yeah … and, Isa?” he says from over his shoulder. “I meant for you to do whatever you feel you need to do to get Hannah to stop treating you so shitty. Stand up for yourself, okay? She’s not any better than you, no matter what she thinks.”
“Since when are you so anti-Hannah? You used to flirt with her all the time.”
That’s the thing with both Kyler and Kai. While Kyler is mostly nice to me, and Kai spends a lot of time teasing me, neither of them have shown me the attention they’ve shown Hannah. Over the years, particularly when we all got in high school, both of them spent a ton of time flirting with her and her friends, checking her out, and trying to get her attention.
“I only flirt with her when I’m bored,” Kai says, seeming bored right now. “But I get that she’s a bitch. And I haven’t liked her since I …” He trails off, though I know what he was going to say. Since I went off the deep end and went all bad boy. “But, anyway, have fun on your trip.” He winks at me, going from serious to joking in two seconds flat. “And bring back something super cool for your most awesome, super sexy next-door neighbor.”
“Huh? Who am I supposed to bring the present back for?” I glance around, pretending confusion.
His eyes narrow to slits, yet he grins. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. The guy who fills up all of your dreams.”
“You mean Johny Palerson?” I feign innocence.
He snickers. “I forgot about your little seventh grade crush on that douche.” He pauses. “You’re still not into him, are you?”
“I’m more into him than my cocky neighbor next-door,” I quip with a sassy smirk.
His eyes darken as he backs away from me. “You know, if you bring me back a present, it means that’s not true. That you do really like me.” He winks at me again then walks into the house before I can get another word out.
His advice echoes in my head.
He may joke around a lot with me, but when he gets all serious, he actually gives pretty good advice.
I make a vow to myself right then and there that, when I get back from this trip, things will change. I’m not sure how it’s going to happen, but if I can survive seventeen years of being picked on, I sure as hell can figure out a way to finally make it stop.
Chapter 3
I’m still trying to create an awesome plan on how to get Hannah to respect me when my dad returns to the car.
“Ready?” he asks as he fishes the keys from his slacks.
Nodding, I hop into the passenger seat.
My thoughts remain stuck in Awesome Plan Land for most of the thirty-minute drive across town. The only time the quietness is broken is when we stop at the drive-thru to get ice cream like my dad promised, and he asks me what flavor I want.
By the time we pull up to the Sunnyvale Bay Community, I’m still lost on how to make Hannah see me differently. It doesn’t seem possible, considering I’m basically trying to figure out a way to get Hannah, the Wicked Wench of the Anders’ House, to be nicer to me.
No, I can do this, I tell myself. I need to be more optimistic. I have a whole three months to figure this all out.
The Sunnyvale Bay Community looks like an ordinary apartment complex, except all the tenants are fifty-five and over. Grandma Stephy moved here about a year ago after my grandpa passed away from cancer.
While my grandpa was a man of few words, he was probably my favorite family member besides Grandma Stephy. Whenever I visited, he’d take me down to the gas station to buy a soda and candy. We’d cruise on the back roads in his old truck, listening to old country singers, mostly Hank Williams and Johnny Cash, with the windows down, even if it was wintertime.
He never took Hannah with us; said she threw too many tantrums.
Our drives always made me feel special, like someone actually wanted to spend time with me, like I was more than just Hannah’s dorky little sister who no one ever wanted around.
Man, I really miss those days and our drives.
“I’ll get your bags if you want to go up,” my dad says, interrupting my thoughts as he parks the car.
“Sure. Sounds good. Thanks.” I climb out of the car then head up the path to my grandma’s apartment.
I knock before opening the door and strolling inside. As I step over the threshold, my shoe bumps into Beastie, my grandma’s fat, old calico cat, and I fall flat on my face.
The cat hisses at me, like the crabby old fart he is.
“Dammit, Beastie,” I curse as I roll over onto my back, rubbing the knee I banged against the floor.
He growls and the hairs rise on his back as he scurries at me with his claws out.
I scramble to get to my feet, but right as his claw is about to reach my leg, a pair of hands wrap around his belly.
“Now, Beastie, I thought we talked about this.” My cousin Indigo, who’s two years older than me, scoops up the cat and lifts him, so he’s eye-level with her. Looking him dead in the eyes, she lectures, “It’s rude to trip people then try to eat their faces. You’re not a zombie. You’re a cat.”
Beastie hisses at her in response.
Sighing, she sets him back down on the floor and offers me her hand. “I’ve been telling Grandma Stephy that she needs to teach him some manners. She says it’s useless, that he’s too old and already stuck in his ways.”
“She’s probably right.”
When I take her hand, she helps me to my feet. I massage my achy knee.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but what’re you doing here? I thought you were in New York attending art school.”
“I was.” She tucks a strand of her blood red hair behind her ear and fiddles with one of her gauges. “Some stuff came up, though, and I had to leave.”
“Did you move back home?”
“Nah, my parents didn’t want to”—she makes air quotes—“ ‘encourage my dropout behavior.’ I think they thought, if they didn’t let me move back in, I’d go back to school.” She rolls her eyes as she drops her hands to her sides. “I tried to explain to them that I didn’t dropout, that the school decided it was probably for the better if I take a permanent sabbatical. But you know parents; they hear what they want to hear.” She glares at Beastie as he hisses at her from underneath the coffee table. “Thankfully, Grandma Stephy took me in until I can figure out what the hell I should do with my life.”