The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)(54)

“Isa told me about you,” she says, pulling out onto the main road. “And I saw some of your texts you sent her while we were on our trip.”

As his gaze glides to me, he props his elbow onto the console and rests his chin on his hand. “You’ve been telling people about me, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited. I just told her about my annoying next door neighbor; that’s all.” I blast Indigo with a warning look, silently begging her to keep quiet.

“I’m not lying for you.” She laughs as she reaches for the knob on the stereo. “So don’t look at me like that.”

A lazy grin expands across Kai’s face. “So what have you been saying about me? I want to know.”

“I’m sure you do.” I slip off my boots and prop my feet onto the dash, wiggling my toes.

He sticks out his bottom lip and flutters his eyelashes at me. “Pretty please?”

I shake my head. “No way.”

“Oh, come on.” He pouts. “Most girls fall for that look all the time.”

“Ah-ha! I knew you did that look on purpose to try to get your way.” I point at him. “But it’s not going to work on me, because I’m not like most girls.”

“I know you’re not.” He turns dead serious. “And that’s such a good thing. Seriously. We should hang out all the time. It’s just too much fun with you.”

“Isa, he’s totally adorable.” Indigo practically swoons in her seat.

“Hey, what a freakishly awesome coincidence,” Kai says, sitting up straight. “My friend calls you adorable. Yours calls me adorable. We should be adorable together.”

“Aw,” Indigo says, pressing her hand to her heart.

“Don’t aw anything he says,” I tell her. “He doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He’s too drunk.”

“I am not.” But his eyelids start to drift shut, validating my point.

“I don’t care if he’s drunk or not. He’s a cutie, Isa.” She slows down for a stop sign and twists the stereo knob, surfing through the stations.

I peek back at Kai, who’s dozing off, his head tipped back, and he’s making this funny bubbling noise with his lips. He looks like a goof, but . . .”Okay, he’s a little bit cute, but in a goofy way.”

“So are you.” She smiles at me. “But that’s why I love you.”

Kai suddenly wakes up, bounces forward, and slams his hand against the console. “Holy crap. Turn this shit up!”

Indigo leaves the radio on the station and cranks up the volume. A pop song I’m vaguely familiar with flows through the speakers and the bass booms. Kai and Indigo start singing, bobbing their heads, and shimmying their shoulders.

“Well, at least you two share the same taste in bad music!” I laugh, because they look ridiculous, and I love them for it.

“Isa’s kind of a music snob,” Kai remarks between lyrics.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Indigo says then belts out more lyrics as she drives through the intersection. “She knows this song.” She reaches over and pinches my side. “Come on, Isa, sing it.” When I shake my head, she pinches me again. “Do it. Do it.”

Kai chants with her until finally I throw up my hands, surrendering. “Fine! But only because I can’t take the peer pressure.”

The three of us sing and dance together, creating a sound that kind of resembles a herd of dying cats. By the time the song is finished, Kai is passed out in the backseat.

“I’m really glad you called me tonight,” Indigo says as she steers the car through the sleepy town of Sunnyvale and toward my subdivision.

“I promised you I’d never drink and drive or get into a car with someone who has been drinking,” I say, resting my head back against the seat.

“That’s not the only reason I’m glad.” She flips the blinker on and changes lanes. “I tried to call you tonight. I have something I need to tell you.”

I take out my phone from my pocket. “The battery’s dead.” I tuck the phone away then rotate in the seat. “What’s up?”

“I found this box while I was going through some of Grandma Stephy’s old stuff,” she says as she pulls into my driveway. All the lights in the house are off, which hopefully means Hannah isn’t home. “There was a box with your dad’s name on it, and I think I found something you might want.” After she pushes the shifter into park, she opens the console, takes out a crinkled photo, and hands it to me.

The picture is of a woman holding a little girl, probably around two or three, and they’re smiling at something in the distance. They have the same blue eyes and brown hair, looking similar enough that they could be mother and daughter.

“Who is this? Wait. You think . . .” I blink at Indigo. “You think this is my mom and me?”

“I’m not sure, but I wonder if it might be. I don’t even think your dad knows the photo was in the box. It was rolled up and stuck inside the bottom of a lamp. I actually thought it was a joint at first, but then I pulled it out and . . .” She trails off, staring at the closed garage door. “It was so weird how it was put in there, almost like someone hid it in there.”

“Maybe my dad did it,” I say quietly. “Maybe he wanted to keep something of my mother, but he didn’t want Lynn to know about it.”