Chapter 10
Isabella dipped her fingers into the smooth acrylic paint and dabbed it on the canvas. She loved everything about her art: the feel of the stretched canvas under her fingers, the smell of the paint, and the connection she felt with light and form as she worked.
She’d gotten brave and asked Elenore about the missing painting. She’d taken it as punishment for arriving late to the gallery. It was in the attic, with the others. Isabella was annoyed, but her punishment could have been worse, so she let it go.
She continued to dab on colors, working quickly as the final image formed in her mind. Her father had taught her how to make the paint thicker where she wanted to show more movement, and she used his strategies, helping the image to materialize in front of her. The night stretched on, and before long it was after ten.
Her bedroom door opened and Delilah walked in, her arms folded, a serene look on her face. “What are you doing?”
Isabella looked at her for a moment, trying to decide if she wanted to say something sarcastic and pick a fight, or if she should be nice. In the end, her good side won out. “Painting.”
Delilah walked behind her and examined her work. “I like how the sunlight filters through the tree branches.”
Delilah liked it? That was a first.
“Thanks.”
“I think Mom should hang this one in the gallery. When you’re done. I mean, it’s really good.”
Isabella turned to stare at Delilah.
Was she being serious? Surely not. Why was she acting this way?
“Um . . . thanks.”
“I’ll tell her this is a good one. Maybe she’ll listen.” Delilah looked down at her pink sparkly fingernails. “You know, I’ve been thinking. It’s our senior year and everything. Soon we’ll be going away. We should maybe . . . do more stuff together.”
Okay. Something was definitely up.
Isabella wanted to know where this was going, so she played along. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Delilah fiddled with her bracelet. “I guess I just feel like we aren’t close at all and that . . .” Delilah blinked.
Was she crying? Isabella stared at her. She’d never seen Delilah get emotional over anything besides not finding her size on the sales rack. Delilah wiped under her eyes.
“I feel like it’s my fault.”
Well, duh. It totally was her fault.
But Isabella couldn’t just sit there and let Delilah cry about it. She wiped her fingers off on her rag and stood, placing a hand on Delilah’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t really okay, but what else could she say? Maybe Delilah wanted to make amends. Ever since they were thrust together as a family, she’d wanted to be close to her sisters. Having them constantly snubbing her hurt more than she wanted to admit.
Delilah pulled Isabella into a hug. “I don’t want you to hate me for the rest of my life.”
Ouch. Had she acted like she hated her?
Isabella didn’t like the thought that maybe she was partly to blame for their problems. “I don’t hate you.”
“Good.” Delilah stepped back. “Because I want a fresh start.” Her eyes were bright, and she looked sincere.
Isabella nodded. “That would be nice.”
“Why don’t you come with us to the game tomorrow?”
Delilah really wanted her at the game?
A glimmer of hope arose in Isabella’s chest. But then she remembered the gallery. “I have to work.”
“I already talked to Mom. She said you don’t have to go in on Friday.”
Really? Elenore was on board with this?
Maybe this would be the catalyst for all of them getting along better.
“Okay,” she said, tentatively.
Delilah smiled, and it looked genuine. “Good. You can sit down near the field with me and Ava. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
She couldn’t quite grasp what was going on.
Was Delilah serious? She was going to include her in with her popular friends? The kids who had ignored her from the beginning of high school? Maybe she wouldn’t be invisible after all. Maybe she’d even see Chase there.
“Sounds good.”
Delilah headed toward her door. “Great. We’ll have fun, I know it.” She breezed out.
Isabella stared at the empty doorway. Were things really going to change around her house? Maybe Elenore would be softer toward her if she knew Delilah was getting along with her.
Isabella put her painting supplies away. It was time for bed anyway. Her phone beeped after she’d brushed her teeth. She picked it up and smiled at Chase’s text.
Hey, sexy.
How do you know I’m sexy? She sat down on her bed.
I have a good imagination.
Isabella laughed, but deep down she knew he’d be disappointed if he found out who she really was.
You’re acting like a creep again.
Ha ha. How are you doing? You find your painting?
Step-thingy locked it away. Working on a new one now.
Send me a pic? Please?
It’s not done yet.
That’s okay. I wanna see.
A nervous energy surged in her, and she opened her camera app. It took her a minute to position the painting in a way that gave it good lighting, but she finally snapped a photo and sent it to Chase.
Wow. You’re amazing. This is even better than the other one.
Thanks.
This looks done to me. What else do you need to do?
The bark needs more detail. And the light needs a little more work. I should be able to finish it tomorrow.
That’s awesome.
She sat back down on her bed.
How did your audition go?
Really good. They offered me the part.
That’s great! Did you take it?
Yes. Mom was happy.
Isabella frowned at the phone. Was he really only taking the part for his mom?
What about you?
She hugged her pillow while she waited for his answer.
I really did want the part, so I’m good.
Then I’m happy for you. Anything else going on?
My sister is sick. Mom is worried.
Oh, no. What’s wrong?
High fever. Looks like the flu.
I hope she gets better soon.
There was a pause before another message came through.
Five? Can I ask you something personal?
Her throat tightened. What did he want to ask? And what if she couldn’t answer him? She debated what she should say. Before she could text a reply, her phone beeped again.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.
No, it’s okay. Go ahead.
What’s a relationship deal-breaker for you?
What did he mean by that?
Her fingers trembled as she tried to think of a response. It wasn’t going to be something simple. She wasn’t even sure she knew the answer. Suddenly, her phone vibrated and it showed an incoming call from Chase.
She swiped to answer. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry. Am I being too weird?”
She let out a nervous laugh. “No. I just don’t know what to say to that.”
“I mean, is there anything that would make you jump ship immediately? Like a guy who chews with his mouth open, or something?”
“That’s kind of superficial. When I do get into a relationship, I would hope I’d be focused more on him as a person.”
A noise came through the line like Chase had dropped his phone and was fumbling with it. “You’ve never been in a relationship?” He sounded incredulous.
Her face heated up. “I’m only seventeen.”
“But you haven’t dated? At all?”
How could she explain it to him? Her stepmother never let her go anywhere. She was practically a prisoner in her own home. She couldn’t go out during the weekends, because that’s when she had to work at the gallery. Her stepsisters never wanted her to go to school functions.
Well, except for this upcoming game, which maybe was the start of something new.
She wasn’t sure. She cleared her throat.
“No.”
“I don’t understand. You’re smart, funny, and talented. Guys should be all over you.”
“I’m invisible.” She didn’t mean to say it—it just slipped out—and she wished she could take it back.
“I hope I’ve never made you feel that way,” he said, quietly.
Only every day. She swallowed the words back and decided to change the subject.
“What’s your deal-breaker?”
He sighed, and she could hear something going on in the background. Maybe his mother talking.
“I can’t stand shallow. The girls who only care about hair and makeup, or who talk on and on about the outfit they want at the mall. I once went out with a girl who only cared about her nails. I mean, seriously. With everything going on in the world, she literally only talked about her fingernails. I asked her opinion on politics, and she said, ‘It’s boring.’ That’s it. She had no opinion on national health care or immigration.”
Isabella was glad the spotlight was off her. “I hate shallow, too. Unfortunately, I live in a house full of it.”
A female voice shouted in the background and rustling noises came over the line.
“I have to go,” he said, his voice urgent. “My sister is having a seizure.”