Chapter 3
Chase watched the city lights flash by as his mother drove home. “How do you think the audition went, honey?”
She kept asking, making him feel guiltier. “Fine, Mom.”
“I know, but did they give you any indication if they would call you back?” She gave him a hopeful smile.
“Who knows?”
He wanted to avoid talking about it, so he messaged the mystery girl.
Where do you want me to leave your phone?
Flatwater Park. There’s a loose brick by the bench with space under it. It’s the lighter brown one.
Okay. I’ll hide it there tonight after the party.
Thanks.
He fiddled with her phone. It was driving him nuts, trying to figure out who this girl was. He knew a lot of people in school, but not everyone. He opened her phone app to see who she had called, but it had no calls logged in it.
He opened her photos and a picture of him popped up. What? He swiped the screen and saw only one other photo, of Mr. Morgan about to kiss the pig. He laughed and swiped back to his picture. It had been taken that afternoon. A smile crept onto his face.
He decided it might be fun to tease her about it.
How come you have a pic of me?
It took a couple of minutes before she answered.
I forgot I took that. Embarrassing.
He laughed.
You have a secret crush on me?
The answer came quickly this time.
Get over yourself.
“What’s so funny? Are you watching videos? Because we’re not in range of the Wi-Fi, and that will use up our data.” His mirth was interrupted by the warning tone in his mother’s voice.
He waved the phone at her. “Not watching videos. Just chatting with a friend.”
“Oh. Okay.” She turned her attention back to the road.
I’ll get over myself if you tell me who you are.
He waited, holding his breath, as his mother pulled into the driveway. She killed the engine. “Have fun tonight. Don’t stay out too late. Home by midnight, okay?”
He glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen. “Okay.” No more texts came, even as he drove to Delilah’s house. As he walked up the sidewalk, the phone beeped. He nearly tripped trying to look at the screen quickly enough.
I’m nobody.
For some reason, those words stabbed into his chest. She didn’t think she was important. It made him sad, and he felt bad that he hadn’t even really looked at her when they’d accidentally switched phones.
You’re not nobody.
Delilah’s front door opened, and he was caught standing on the porch, staring at his phone. He gave Delilah an apologetic smile and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Hi.”
She grabbed his arm. “Chase! You’re here. I’m so glad you made it.” She pulled him inside, hugging him close to her side.
This was going to be a long night.
Just after Isabella received Chase’s text claiming she wasn’t a nobody, she heard Delilah shout his name. She tossed his phone onto the desk, figuring there wouldn’t be any more messages from him that night. She’d wait until everyone was gone and sneak out of the house. Flatwater Park wasn’t too far. Just a few blocks. She could walk there and back without anyone knowing.
She set her alarm, then shut off her lamp, placed her glasses on the nightstand, and climbed into her sleigh-shaped bed. Snuggling under the covers, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to think about Chase.
His phone made another noise. She was intensely curious as to what he was saying, but she needed to get to sleep if she was going to get up in the middle of the night. Two seconds ticked by before she sat up and grabbed the phone, unable to stand it. She squinted at the screen.
Did you get my text?
She sighed and answered him. Yes. Now let me sleep. I need to sneak out tonight.
Okay. Have sweet dreams.
She was sure she would. Pop music filtered through the floor, along with indistinct chatter, but she managed to fall asleep anyway. When her alarm woke her up at three o’clock in the morning, the house was silent.
The September night air was cool on her face as she climbed down the lattice fastened to the house next to her balcony. The house sat on a steep cliff, and she had to watch her footing or she’d slip off the edge. She didn’t sneak out often, but with the way her life was, it was nice to have a way to escape once in a while.
The walk to the park was uneventful. She scanned the area for people, and when she didn’t see anyone, she pried up the loose brick. A cool sweat broke out on her forehead when she found a phone lying there in the little hollowed-out cement space. She took it out and saw a sticky note attached to the glass.
Thanks for helping me with things tonight. You’re not a nobody.
Her heart crept into her throat. She needed to stop thinking about Chase, and texting back and forth wasn’t going to help. She punched a few icons and deleted their conversation from his phone, then slipped his phone into the space and put the brick back on top.
There. He wouldn’t be able to text her again.
As she walked away, regret gnawed at her gut. She’d miss their texts, but it was for the best. He was the popular guy at school. Once he found out who she was, he’d lose interest anyway. She was nowhere near Chase’s league. Besides, if Delilah found out she was communicating with him, her home life would become even more of a living hell.
She climbed back up to her balcony and slipped into bed. She spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince herself that she didn’t feel horrible for cutting off their communication. Sleep finally came to her as the early morning birds started chirping.
Her cell phone made a noise, and she sat up with a start. Ten o’clock? She hadn’t meant to sleep in so late. Was Chase texting her again? She picked up her phone, her heart racing.
Isabella, get down here this instant. You’re late for the gallery. You have work to do. If you don’t come down now, your phone goes in the trash.
Oh. Not Chase. Right.
She’d erased her number from his phone. She climbed out of bed and threw on her clothes. “Coming!” she called. It was best if she just complied. Elenore was much easier to live with if Isabella did what she asked—and didn’t make too much eye contact.
She scarfed down a bowl of cereal and rinsed the empty dish in the sink. Elenore entered the room, her long skirt swishing. “There are fifteen new paintings waiting to be attended to at the gallery.”
Fifteen? That many? How was she even going to find room for them?
“We are losing money when we have them sitting in the storage area, especially on a Saturday. I expect you to do your job, or you can give up your phone privileges.”
She nodded and started for the door. “Yes, ma’am.” She didn’t want to hear another hour-long lecture.
She walked to the gallery, dreading having to find places to display all those paintings. She’d be rearranging things and moving lighting all day. Creating fifteen entries for the website would take another full day. Her entire weekend was shot.
The electronic doorbell made a chiming noise as she entered the brightly lit gallery. Leilani was helping a customer, so she snuck into the back room and looked at the paintings stacked up along the walls. A new artist. She studied the work. Great use of light. She made a mental note to incorporate that more into her own work.
She measured them, keeping notes for the website, and thought about how she would rearrange the other paintings to make them fit. It wasn’t just about hanging them up. Each piece needed to be highlighted and to have enough space around it so it could be appreciated on its own. She worked on it all morning, taking only a short break for lunch.
Once she had a basic floor plan ready, she went to work taking down paintings and making room for the fifteen new ones. It was always a tedious dance, moving things around after a painting sold, and then again when new art came in. She’d just finished hanging the third one when her phone beeped.
What did Elenore want now? She wiped her hands on her jeans and pulled out her phone. She swallowed hard when she saw Chase’s name.
Why did you delete my texts??
Her heart sped up. Chase. Even though she didn’t want to, she felt happy that he somehow still had her number. She swallowed, trying to think about Delilah and why she’d cut off contact. And yet, a smile crept onto her face.
How are you still texting me? Did you memorize my number or something?
She clicked on her contacts and saw that Chase not only put his name and number in, he’d entered his address and birthdate as well.
555-0155 isn’t easy to forget. So many fives!
She giggled and then felt ridiculous.
Another text came through.
Are you done putting up the new artwork?
Elenore. Ugh. She really thought it would be done by now? She texted back. Not yet. Still working on it.
Hurry up. It’s not good to be slothful.
She curled her fingers so she didn’t reply back with curse words. She switched to her conversation with Chase.
Duty calls. I gotta run.
Since you won’t tell me your name, I’m going to call you Five.
She grinned. Fine by me.
OK, Five, have a good day.
You too, Chase.
SO not fair.
She laughed and stuffed her phone back in her pocket.
Isabella continued hanging the rest of the paintings. By the time she finished, it was nine o’clock and time to close the gallery.
Leilani surveyed her work. “Looks really good. You have the eye, child. I like this new artist. What’s his name?”
“Cinthia Gregory. The artist’s a woman.”
“Ah, Gregory. That’s why I thought she was a man.” Leilani grabbed her purse and shut off the lights. “You want a ride home, honey? It’s dark.”
“Thanks.”
She was hungry when she arrived home, so she grabbed a personal frozen pizza and stuck it in the oven. As she waited for it to cook, her phone rang. For a second, her hands grew sweaty thinking maybe it was Chase calling, but when she looked at the phone she saw Savannah’s number on the screen.
“Hey, Vannah.”
“It’s so cool, being able to call you anytime now.”
“Yeah. Although it gives my step-beast more ammunition. She’s already threatened to take it away if I don’t do her every wish.”
Savannah groaned on the other end of the line. “Sometimes I just want to strangle her.”
Isabella laughed as she flicked on the oven light to peek at the pizza, willing it to cook faster. “I just keep counting down the days until I graduate. Then I can leave.”
“But it’s so unfair. All your father’s paintings . . . his house . . . she should be the one to leave. Not you.”
“He died without a will. I can’t do much about it.”
“Some of those paintings he specifically gave you. The one of your mother . . .”
Pain bubbled up in her chest every time she thought about it. That painting used to hang in the living room. After her father died, Elenore took it down and stuffed it up in the attic, along with a dozen other paintings. “Emma is no longer with us,” she’d said. She replaced them with cheap Walmart art. Puke. Isabella still held out hope that Elenore would give the paintings to her when she graduated and left. Elenore must not want them if she thought the best place for them was up in the stuffy attic.
“I know.”
“Hey, I was calling because there’s a rumor going around that Chase Hawkins auditioned for one of the lead roles in the next Star Wars movie. Can you believe it?”
“I don’t think he’ll get the part.” The words were out before she could think, and she clamped her hand over her mouth.
“What? Why not?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he will. That’s exciting.”
“You don’t sound excited. What’s wrong? You hating on Chase now?”
“No!” Had she said that too forcefully? She corrected her statement. “No. I’m just tired, I guess.”
“You up late painting?”
“More like hanging paintings. Step-thing brought in fifteen of them.” Her arms hurt from all the effort.
“Wow. That’s a lot, isn’t it?”
“She signed a new artist. Soon we’ll have to blow out a wall and add on.” The cheese on the pizza was starting to melt, and Isabella’s stomach growled.
“Well, I gotta go. If your stepmom lets you out of work tomorrow, maybe we can do something.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” They both knew that wouldn’t happen. “See ya.”
She hung up the phone and waited another minute and a half for the pizza to finish cooking. As she waited, she pulled out her mother’s photo, smiling at the events of the day. When the timer went off, she slid the pizza onto a plate and sliced it up. The house was eerily quiet. Her step-clan was probably out shopping. That’s what they loved to do. Spend her father’s money. She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and went upstairs.
Settling in her room, she put the pizza on her desk. It was hot, but she took a bite anyway, unable to wait. She blew on the next bite and took a sip from her water bottle.
After she ate, she stood to look at the painting she’d started yesterday. Bright reds and greens popped against the canvas. It was a field of poppies, with a cloudless sky overhead. She liked the composition, but the poppies weren’t as lifelike as she’d hoped.
She squirted some more paint on her palette and started fixing them with her pinky finger. One thing she loved about painting was that it was forgiving. If you messed up, you just applied more paint.
An hour later, she was much happier with the flowers. She was washing off her fingers when her phone chimed. She picked it up and swiped the screen.
What are you doing tonight?
Painting.
For real?
She chuckled and sat down on her bed. Yes.
Like, the walls? Or a picture?
Lol. A picture.
Cool.
She waited for him to say something else, but the pause stretched on, so she curled up on her bed and downloaded one of the apps Savannah raved about. She was playing around on her phone when his next text came.
Why won’t you tell me who you are?
She hesitated, trying to come up with an explanation. It’s complicated.
Try me.
Her fingers hovered over the screen. Was she really thinking of saying something truthful?
She wondered what would happen if she did.