I shake my head, trying not to squirm from his attentive gaze. “Probably not.”
Kai rubs the back of his neck and tensely glances around the hallway. I know what’s coming. Like the time he was caught walking home with me, he’s going to make some lame-ass excuse of why he’s here with me.
“I’ll see you later,” I say, deciding to let him off the hook.
Before anyone can say anything else, I turn around and walk back toward the stairway. As I make my way downstairs, I notice that fewer people are looking in my direction, but some still stare. I ignore the gawking the best I can, but by the time I make it to my locker, I feel sick to my stomach. I have no idea how I’m going through with my plan of making some real friends, when I can barely handle people staring.
Give it time. You’ll get used to it.
That’s what I try to tell myself through my morning classes and during lunch, when I sit at the same corner table by myself, like I did the previous three years. I get desperate enough that I try to spot Kai at one of the tables, but he must leave campus for lunch, because I don’t see him anywhere. I end up eating lunch while texting Indigo, so I won’t have to deal with the staring plague that seems to have taken over my school.
I’m not positive what’s causing the gawking. I haven’t heard any gossip that includes my name and my mental stability, so I don’t think the rumor is causing people to act crazy. Still, the thought hovers there in the back of my mind. What if they all think I’m insane? Do I care? I don’t want to, and the Isa who was overseas wouldn’t, but being back at home, where everyone knows the real me, I kind of do.
By the time the final bell rings, I’ve made a total of zero friends, and strangely, the handful of people I did talk to during my junior year won’t even look me in the eye.
Frustrated, I hurry out of the school, pushing my way through the mob of people on the sidewalk. As I reach the parking lot, my phone buzzes from inside my pocket, so I dig it out.
Indigo: Dude, I forgot how lame high school is.
Me: What r u talking about? You’re at school? What school?
Indigo: I’m talking about the lameness of your high school and all high schools in general.
Me: R u here?
Indigo: Duh. How could I not come pick u up after all those depressing texts u sent me?
My gaze lifts to the parking lot and I spot her, sitting on the trunk of my grandma’s car, with her hair pulled up in a bun, smoking a cigarette. I run to her. I don’t even care how crazy I look at the moment. I’m just so damn glad she’s here.
She hops off the trunk, and I hug the bejesus out of her. “So, I’m guessing by the crazy hugging that your first day totally sucked?” she says as she hugs me back.
“It was awful,” I tell her. “Everyone kept staring, and even my old friends wouldn’t talk to me. The only person who said anything to me at all was Kai, and that’s because he wanted his present.”
“Aw, Kai.” The tone of her voice implies something. “He wouldn’t happen to be around, would he?”
I move back and eye her over suspiciously. “Why?”
She shrugs, dropping her cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with the tip of her boot. “I’m just curious. I mean, other than Kyler, he’s the only person from Sunnyvale I’ve heard you mention. And you’re in love with Kyler, so it makes sense why you talked about him, but with Kai,” she bobs her head back and forth, wavering, “I want to find out why he’s always so stuck in your head.”
“He’s not stuck in my head. I talk about him, because he’s, like, one of the few people who’s ever talked to me at school, and that was only on rare occasions.” I frown as she stubbornly keeps looking at all the people walking by us. “And I have no idea where he is. I haven’t seen him since this morning.” I head for the passenger side of the car. “Please tell me you’re taking me for ice cream, because I’m in desperate need of some sugar.”
Her back stiffens. “We actually need to go straight to Grandma’s.”
I grasp the door handle. “Why? Is everything okay?”
She won’t look me in the eye, which is completely out of character for her. “Something happened between her and your dad. They got in a fight and . . .”
“And what?” I press.
She sighs, meeting my gaze. “And she got a name out of him.”
“She did. Yes!” I fist pump the air then hop into the car, bubbling with excitement. Holy shit, she has a name. A freaking name. I’m so excited I can’t sit still.
Indigo climbs into the car and turns on the engine. “Isa, I don’t want you to get too excited. Grandma may have gotten a name, but your dad wouldn’t tell her anything else. And he’s super pissed. Like, really, really angry.” She backs out of the parking space. “He even broke a vase.”
“That doesn’t matter.” All that matters is I’m about to learn my mother’s name. I can do a lot with a name. I can even track her down if I want to, without my dad’s help, which I plan on doing.
Because like I promised myself in Paris, I’m going to find her, no matter what it takes.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Indigo is parking the car in front of Grandma Stephy’s apartment. I have so much pent up energy inside me that I jump out of the car before it comes to a complete stop. I’ve done the ninja move before, but never in four-inch platforms, and I end up rolling my ankle and eating asphalt as I fall to the ground.
“For the love of God.” I clumsily push to my feet and look at the damage. My knee is bleeding and pebbles are stuck in the open cut. I think a piece of glass might be in there too. I almost throw up. I’m cool with seeing blood and gore on television, but it’s a whole different story when the blood’s gushing out of me. But determined to make it inside, I force the vomit back and pluck out the glass.
“Oh, my God . . .” Oxygen is ripped from my lungs as more blood trickles out of the wound.
“Jesus, Isa, are you okay?” Indigo rushes around the front of the car toward me.
“I’m totally fine.” I can do this. Be tough. I take off, limping up the sidewalk toward my grandma’s place.
“Isa, would you please slow down?” Indigo’s sandals scuff against the ground as she jogs to catch up with me. “You’re leaving a trail of blood all over the ground, for God’s sake.”
I look down and, sure enough, blood is dripping out of the cut, down my leg, and onto the concrete. I gag, but fuse my lips together.
“Holy shit, I think you might need stitches,” Indigo remarks as she bends over and squints at the open wound.
“The stitches can wait until I talk to Grandma.” I hobble toward the apartment again, refusing to look down at the cut.
Cotton candy. Gummy worms. Licorice. I chant in my head, trying to stay calm.
“You’re going to end up with a scar if you don’t take care of it,” Indigo points out, stopping by the front door to light up.
“I’ll take care of it.” I open the apartment door and stumble into Grandma Stephy’s living room.
She’s sitting on the couch, surrounded by tons of used Kleenexes, and her head is in her hands. When I enter, she quickly looks up, blinking her puffy eyes.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” She stands up and winds around the coffee table toward me. “I think I messed up.”
“Indigo says you got a name. Please tell me that’s true.” I hunch over and place my hand on my knee.
Now that the adrenaline rush is fading, the pain is becoming way more knock-me-on-my-ass intense and the vomit burning at the back of my throat is harder to keep down.
“He accidentally let it slip out when he was yelling at me,” she says with a cautious edge to her voice. “But I’m not even sure he realized he said it.”