Isabella and the Slipper, page 5
Try me.
Her fingers hovered over the screen. Was she really thinking of saying something truthful?
She wondered what would happen if she did.
Chapter 4
Chase sat on the living room couch, watching a television show his little sister put on. It was past her bedtime, but his mother usually let her stay up late on Saturday nights, and he was in charge tonight. His parents had gone out to dinner and a movie. He looked down at his phone. The girl still hadn’t answered. He decided to prod.
You there?
Yes.
So?
I’m not popular at school.
He leaned back and blew out a breath. Was that all she was worried about? He couldn’t care less about her social status.
I don’t care.
We would never be friends in real life.
Was this true? He tried to be nice to everyone at school, but he did usually hang out with the more outgoing type. Was he snobbish at school? He glanced at his sister, sitting on the floor playing with her dolls. He went back to his phone.
Come on. You know I don’t care. You gonna force me to call you, Five?
I like Five. It’s creative.
Frustrated, he pounded on the keys.
Chwolgnte sumetris which autocorrected to Chocolate sunrise. He hit “Send” anyway.
??
Autocorrect.
What were you trying to say?
I just want you to tell me.
The suspense is good for you.
He laughed out loud, and his sister turned to look at him. He shrugged at her and she went back to playing with her dolls. She was a five-year-old. Easily distracted.
You are killing me, Five.
What are you doing tonight?
Deflection. Okay, he could handle that. I’m babysitting my sister.
Any word on the audition?
No callbacks yet. Looking good.
What do you hate about acting?
That was a difficult question. He hated a lot of things. For one, standing around forever waiting. Waiting for his scene. Waiting for the lighting crew. Waiting for the right time of day. And then shooting the same scene over and over. It was maddening. Plus, it took up large chunks of his time. He wanted to be hanging out with his friends or tossing a football, not standing on a set waiting for his turn.
He punched in his response. It’s tedious. Also, I don’t want to quit school.
Ah, I see. Why does your mom want you to act?
He almost started typing about how his mother wanted him to become a famous actor because she thought it would save them financially, but he stopped and deleted it. No need to spread that all over school. They lived in a big home. Anyone looking at them would think they had a lot of money. He probably shouldn’t tell them otherwise. Plus, it wasn’t entirely true. Instead, he typed: She wants me to have a good career.
Tell her you want to be a doctor.
He chuckled. Yeah, right.
What do you want to be when you grow up, Five?
While he waited for her answer, he stood and stretched his back. “Time to get to bed, Cora.”
His sister shook her head. “Five more minutes? Please?”
“All right.” He plopped back down on the couch. He was a pushover.
Artist, like my dad.
I want to see what you’ve been painting. Take a pic for me?
Apparently he wasn’t paying enough attention to his sister because she climbed up on his lap and handed him a book. “Read to me.”
He glanced at his phone before he started, wondering if she’d send the picture. When he finished reading the book she still hadn’t sent it. He must have pushed too far.
“Come on, it’s time for pajamas.”
“Okay.” Cora ran to her bedroom and dressed for bed, then brushed her teeth.
After he got her settled, he entered his bedroom and sat down on his bed. The phone chimed, and excitement shot through him. She’d sent it! He pressed on the photo to enlarge it.
Bright-red poppies filled the bottom three quarters, under a blue sky. The way it was painted, he could feel the wind blowing through the flowers. The movement was so apparent in the way the paint was applied. He was shocked that a high schooler could paint like that.
Snap, you’re good. Where did you learn that?
From my father.
Her father? An idea hit him. Maybe he could Google and find out who her father was.
Is he a famous painter?
Silence. Maybe he hit on something.
He opened his Safari app and searched “Famous Painters in Los Angeles.” He found a website that listed a bunch of California artists and showed examples of their work. As he scrolled through, though, he didn’t see anything quite like what Five had done. Maybe her style wasn’t that similar? Or maybe he wasn’t famous?
A text came through. Nice try.
He chuckled. I’m going to find out who you are sooner or later, Five.
Good luck.
Challenge accepted.
Isabella spent Sunday at the gallery, taking pictures of the new artwork, uploading the photos, processing them in Lightroom, and entering them into the computer. Elenore had left her a list of the paintings and their prices. It took all day to get the website up-to-date, as she had suspected. Then she had to sweep the floors and clean the bathroom. She didn’t hear from Chase until that evening after she’d gotten home.
When he texted, she was at the table eating a pasta dish she’d heated up in the microwave. Ava was at the table as well, looking at the comics section of the newspaper and eating a Pop-Tart. She looked up when Isabella’s phone chimed.
“Who’s texting you?”
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Probably Savannah.” She wanted to pull the phone out and look, but didn’t in case Ava would see the name on it.
“Aren’t you going to answer her?”
Isabella squirmed. “Yes. As soon as I’m done eating.”
Ava rolled her eyes and went back to the comics. “You’re weird.” Then she sighed and shoved the comics away. “I don’t get Dilbert. Why do they make comics that aren’t funny? They’re supposed to be funny.”
Isabella shrugged. She’d tried to explain them in the past. It didn’t help. She ate her pasta, put the dish in the sink, and ran upstairs to her room. She shut the door and pulled out her phone to look at Chase’s text.
Are you busy?
Not anymore. Do you need something?
Just want to vent. My mom forced me to go to some charity event today. Took the whole day. It was SO boring.
Why did she make you go?
Hobnob with people in the acting industry. I wanted so badly to tell her I quit. But I can’t.
Isabella totally understood that. Her stepmother had been manipulating her for years.
I’m sorry. I know how it is. My stepmother is the same way.
Ugh! Why are adults like that? What’s your SM making you do?
Isabella leaned against her door and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. How could she explain? Would it sound like whining if she tried? Finally, she went with: She thinks I’m the hired help, not her daughter.
Ouch.
At least I’ll be gone in a year.
Lucky you. My parents don’t want me to go to college.
What?!?
My mom wants to enroll me in acting school. She says I shouldn’t waste my prime acting years in college taking classes I won’t need.
Wow. His mother really was obsessed with him being an actor. That’s crazy.
She means well, I guess. Sorry you don’t have a good relationship with your SM.
A sadness settled in her chest. She really did strive for a good relationship at one point. Elenore had seemed warm right after she married her father. But he died less than a year later, and she grew cold and distant.
As long as I do whatever she says, she usually leaves me alone. I spent all weekend doing her bidding.
She makes you work all weekend?
Yeah. While she’s off at the country club. We must keep up appearances, you know.
Snort. We keep up appearances too.
What did he mean by that? She hesitated. Like what?
We live in a big house we can’t afford. My father lost his job last year. Money’s been tight.
A lump formed in her throat. She was pretty sure Chase Hawkins didn’t go around telling people at school that information. Why was he sharing it with her?
That sucks.
Yeah, and if I don’t land another acting job, it’s going to be my fault no money’s coming in.
Wow.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to dump on you.
Isabella stared at the words on the phone. How could she tell him it meant a lot that he shared that with her? What could she say to make him understand?
It’s okay. You can dump on me anytime.
That sounded lame. You can dump on me anytime? What was she, a trash can?
She waited to see if he would respond. Suddenly, her phone rang, and she fumbled with it. Expecting to see Savannah’s name on the screen, her heart thumped in her chest when she saw it was Chase. What should she do? Answer it? Ignore it? It continued to ring, and she made a fast decision, swiping her finger across. “Hello?” Her voice sounded hollow and high-pitched.
“Is it weird that I called? Because if it’s weird, let me know. I don’t want to creep you out or anything.”
His deep voice sent a wave of nerves through her. “No, it’s not weird.” She clutched the phone to her ear.
“Good. Because I just wanted to talk to you. My fingers were tired.”
She chuckled, shifting because her back hurt from leaning up against her door. “Yeah.”
He paused. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
It was? She didn’t know what to say to him, so she just said, “You, too.”
“I didn’t mean to tell you all that about my family.” He sounded nervous.
“It’s okay. I have a weird family life, too.”
“The thing is . . . people at school don’t really know my full situation.”
Ah. He was worried she’d blab about it to the school. Her backside was starting to fall asleep so she stood. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Thanks, Five.”
She tried not to giggle at the silly nickname he’d given her. “You’re welcome.”
“You know, it’s weird—I don’t even know who you are, but I feel like you’re easy to talk to.”
Isabella smiled at the compliment. “You, too.”
“Can I call you tomorrow?” His voice was soft. Tentative.
“Sure. Just wait until I’m done with my—chores after school.” It wasn’t an outright lie.
“What time is that?”
“Seven.”
“She makes you do chores until seven o’clock at night?”
Isabella sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the floor. She didn’t want to mislead him, but she didn’t want to tell him the whole truth, either. “Yeah.”
“Man, she really is a witch, isn’t she? What does your dad say?”
Her throat felt tight, and she had to force the words out. “He died when I was twelve.”
“Aw, man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
His voice sounded so remorseful that she wanted to console him. “It’s okay.”
She heard rustling noises on the other end of the line. “What are you doing?”
“Just stretching out on my bed.”
She laid back on her pillows. “Me, too.”
“Thanks for listening to me, Five.”
A warm feeling started in her chest and moved through her. “Sure.”
“Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow. Bye.”
“Bye, Five.”
He hung up, and she set her phone on her nightstand, her emotions running wild. Chase actually called her and talked to her on the phone. Chase Hawkins. Talked to her. He said she was easy to talk to. She clutched her fists to her chest, her heart beating hard against her ribs. She was going to float through her school day tomorrow, waiting for the next time she would talk to him.
Chapter 5
Chase dropped his books on his desk and sat down. The last period of the day. He actually liked the class. Physics with Mr. Morgan. He liked learning about force, power, and motion. It made sense to him. The tests were easy, and Mr. Morgan made the lectures fun.
But today he couldn’t get rid of the anxious feeling he had. He wanted to call Five. His mother had set up another audition for the weekend, and he wanted to talk to her about it. Plus, he wanted to thank her. He’d been a little worried when he came to school that morning, but Five had kept her word. She apparently hadn’t told anyone about what he’d shared with her.
Mr. Morgan walked in the classroom and grinned. “Beginning-of-class joke. A neutron walked into a bar and asked how much a beer was. The bartender said, ‘For you, no charge.’”
A few students laughed, a few groaned, and Mr. Morgan clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “We’re at that point in the year, folks. It’s time to start working on our science projects.”
More groans came. Mr. Morgan shook his head. “Now, it’s not that bad. Our projects are going to be fun.” He picked up a stack of papers. “I’m passing out some ideas for you. We’ll be pairing up for this, so students in the front row, you’ll partner with the student behind you. We’ll continue this down the rows.”
Chase took the stack of papers and pulled the top one off, then handed them down the line. Mr. Morgan made a motion with his hand. “Go ahead and turn your desks around. I want you to spend the rest of the class collaborating. This project will be worth one-quarter of your grade, so take it seriously.”
Scraping noises filled the classroom as the students obeyed. Chase lifted his desk and turned it to face his partner—a girl with long, brown hair and owl-like glasses. Her eyes were wide, like she was in shock. Sometimes people were a bit intimidated by him, so he gave her a smile to put her at ease.
“Hi.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything.
He tried again. “I’m Chase. Guess we’ll be working together on this one.”
Her face drained of color and she looked like she was going to faint.
The poor girl.
She nodded again, then cleared her throat. “Hi.”
“What’s your name?”
She swallowed hard, staring at him with big, brown eyes. “Isabella,” she said, in almost a whisper.
He gave her another reassuring smile, then pulled out the sheet Mr. Morgan passed out. “Do any of these look interesting to you?”
Isabella buried herself behind the piece of paper for a few moments. When she lowered it, she cleared her throat again. “Building a motor looks fun.”
“I like that, too. Should we pick that one?”
A smile flashed across her lips but it left as quickly as it came. “Sounds good.”
“We’ll need to do some research to figure out what we need.”
She pulled out a notebook and a pencil. She wrote “Science Project: Building a Motor” in neat lettering at the top of the page.
Her fingers trembled. She was nervous.
He needed to get her talking.
“Mr. Morgan’s one of my favorite teachers.”
She fiddled with her pen. “Mine too.”
“What other classes do you like?”
“Art.” She said it quickly, then lowered her gaze as if embarrassed. “I like art.”
“That’s great. I’ve never been good at that kind of thing. All I can do is draw stick figures.” He chuckled, and she forced a smile. “Have you lived in Los Angeles your whole life?”
She shook her head but didn’t elaborate.
This girl intrigued him. He squinted at her. She seemed familiar somehow. “Are we in any other classes together?”
“No.”
Maybe his subconscious had taken note of her sitting behind him and he hadn’t fully realized it. He pulled out his phone, and she stiffened. “It’s okay. Mr. Morgan doesn’t care if we have phones in here as long as we’re getting our work done. I’m going to search and see what we need for materials.”
She gave him a smile. “I’ll write them down.”
They worked on building a list of materials and figured out how many items they had already. After that, they discussed what they would focus their paper on. The hour flew by.
Before the bell rang, Mr. Morgan stood. “You will need to meet with your partner outside of class, as we will be continuing our lectures. Please set up a time now so you don’t procrastinate. You’ll have two weeks to finish the project, write a paper on it, and present your materials to the class.”
Chase leaned forward. “Do you want to get together at my house after school today?”
“I can’t. I have something right after school. But I could later tonight.”
“What time?”
She swallowed again. “Seven?”
He had to fight to keep a frown off his face. He was anxious to speak to Five, and meeting with Isabella at seven would push his phone call back even further. But he knew they probably should get started. “All right. I’ll write down my address.”
He scribbled it down and handed her the paper. She stuck it in her back pocket. He tried to not let his disappointment show. “See you tonight,” he said.
When the final bell rang, he turned his desk around and slipped out of the classroom. He checked his watch. Three thirty. He pulled out his phone and texted Five.
Can I call you at eight tonight? Something came up. School project.
He couldn’t believe how anxious he was to hear back from her. Staring at the phone, he walked toward his car. The chime made him smile.
Sure, no problem.
“Chase!”
He looked up to see Delilah and her sister walking toward him. Delilah was waving her hand high in the air. He forced a smile. “Hi, girls.”
They giggled. Delilah grabbed his arm. “Thanks for coming to my party. I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend more time together. I kind of lost sight of you for a while. I don’t know where you went off to.”
“Hmm. Sorry about that.” He gave her an I-don’t-know-what-happened-either look.
