Chapter 27 – Isabelle

My eyes burn from lack of sleep, and my face is puffy from all the crying I’ve done. Based on the way my vision blurs right now, the tears aren’t stopping anytime soon. I wipe them away and close my locker. When I turn around, Grayson is coming down the hallway. He walks by as if I don’t exist, and fresh tears blaze a painful path down my cheeks.

“You are unbelievable!” Andrea marches up to me and gets in my face.

“What?” I sniffle and wipe my face again.

“You just couldn’t wait to go after Cam, could you?” Her shrieking intensifies my headache. “We weren’t even broken up for a day before you made a move.”

I press the heels of my hands against my temples. Make it stop. “What are you—No. Look, whatever he told you—”

“Don’t!” She points at me. “I went out of my way yesterday to apologize and try to make amends, and you stabbed me in the back.”

Students turn to stare. She’s making a scene. Why won’t she shut up? My mouth moves, but nothing comes out. Grayson’s watching. Nothing I say or do can make this better.

“You’re a bad friend, Isabelle,” she says.

“I’m a bad friend?” I clutch my broken heart. “But you… and Cam… you dumped him. And I didn’t ask—I didn’t want him to kiss me. I—” My gaze drifts to Grayson, but I can’t say out loud, in front of all these people, how much Grayson means to me.

“Oh, don’t try to twist this around.” Andrea shakes her head, her black hair whipping around her face. “You’ve been dying to get him back.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I fling my backpack over my shoulder, glance at Grayson to be sure he's listening, and enunciate each word slowly. “Let me be perfectly clear. I don’t want Cam.”

“Then stop kissing him!”

“I. Wasn’t!”

A blur of motion and my cheek stings with fresh heat.

I gasp and cup my cheek. She slapped me. She actually slapped me. Andrea gapes at me, as if surprised by her own action and the realization she can't blame that on me, too, and then shoves her way through the forming crowd. I stare after her, stunned. Grayson’s gaze collides with mine for a fraction of a second before he turns away. I hang my head, not even trying to stop the tears anymore. I’m entirely numb, and everything inside of me is broken.

There’s no way I can go to Spanish and sit next to Grayson when he can’t stand to look at me. I won’t be able to concentrate anyway. So, instead, I make my way to the nurse’s office.

“Oh, Isabelle, dear, what happened?” Ms. Young jumps up from her chair and scurries around her desk. She pulls my hand from my face and cringes. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

I take a seat on the uncomfortable blue bed and take the ice pack she offers me. Gently, I put it on my cheek and wince. “Ow.”

“What happened?” she asks again.

“Oh, um. It’s stupid.” I force a smile. “I went to close my locker and I accidentally hit myself with the door.” I don’t know why I’m lying when I should just tell the truth. Andrea deserves to suffer some consequences for smacking me. But I also really want to forget all about this.

The bell rings, but I don’t move. Ms. Young doesn’t ask me to, either, so I sit with an ice pack on my cheek, feeling sorry for myself. How did my life get so messed up? The only good thing I had was Grayson, and now I’ve lost him. God, please, help me out here. I don’t know what to do. How can I make things right?

Ms. Young hands me a tissue, and I realize I’m crying again. Or still. I don’t even know anymore. She sits next to me and rubs my back. “It’s going to be okay. Might be a tad swollen, and you’ll have a good bruise, but nothing too bad.”

“Thanks.”

She pats my leg and stands. “I’ll write you a late pass. You can take the ice pack with you.”

I groan. So much for avoiding Grayson. Reluctantly, I take the late pass and head to class. smiles when I hand her the pass. There’s a video playing, and I’m so grateful we’re not practicing our dance or anything else that will require me to talk to Grayson. I slip into my seat and stare at the television.

Unfortunately for me, the video ends ten minutes later, and instructs us to head to the gym. I hate my life. Once in the gym, she starts the music and counts out the steps. Grayson gets into position, his body stiff. We move to the music, but he doesn’t look at me. I clear my throat, mostly so I won’t break down into sobs. My throat burns with the effort.

“How’s your cheek?” he asks.

“Fine.”

He nods, and we fall silent again. His head is down, and I stare at his soft, beautiful, windblown hair. My fingers ache to run through it.

“I can’t do this,” I mutter as I back away from him. I can barely see through my tears, but that doesn’t stop me from running out of the gym.

“Isabelle!” Grayson calls my name.

My full name.

A sob nearly chokes me. I don’t slow down, though. I can’t. I can’t look into his eyes and have him tell me it’s over, that he doesn’t want me anymore. I hide out in the girls’ bathroom for the remainder of the period, and when the bell rings, I sneak out the side door, but I don’t go home. I can’t stand to be there, to see the evidence of a shattered life.

Instead, I drive to the Elmwood Street Christian Church. I have no idea if anyone will be there, and I don’t really care if there is. I just need the peace that comes with being in God’s house. I walk in, and the place is dimly let, the pews empty. Stopping just inside the door, I inhale deeply and close my eyes.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

I gasp at the unexpected sound and open my eyes to find a woman walking down the aisle. When she gets closer, I recognize her as Sandra, Pastor Rick’s wife.

“Isabelle?”

“Yeah, sorry for just walking in.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” she asks. There’s zero judgment in her tone, and I never knew I could be so grateful for something so small.

I nod and bite the inside of my cheek, but the tears come regardless. “I’m sorry. I can go.” I turn to leave when she puts her hand gently on my arm.

“You don’t have to leave.” She gives me a soft smile. “In fact, I’m guessing you need to be here.”

I sniffle and wipe the tears from my face. “Thank you.” My voice trembles.

“Pastor Rick isn’t here, but maybe I can help. Come on.” She leads me to the closest pew, and I sit. She slides in next to me, angling her body so she can face me, elbows resting on the back of the pew. “What’s on your mind?”

I blow out a breath and lick my lips. Then, I start talking, and I don’t stop until I’ve divulged my entire life story. I tell her everything from Brandon’s death to Mom’s drinking to the reasons I left my old church and even all the stuff with my friends and Grayson. Through all of it, Sandra is silent, listening. When I’m done, my shoulders slump, and bone-weary exhaustion weighs me down.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry, Isabelle. Truly.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

She rubs my back, and then releases me. Unshed tears glisten in her eyes, and guilt gnaws at me. I shouldn’t have burdened her with my problems. She’s got way more important things to worry about.

“It can be hard to understand why God does what He does, and I suppose we’re not meant to. We simply need to trust Him and His plans for us.”

“I know.” I nod.

“I don’t know many adults who could deal with everything you’ve been dealing with, but Isabelle…” She takes my hands. “None of what’s happened is your fault. You know that, right?”

I hang my head, unable to give her the answer I know she wants.

“The people in your life, the ones who are supposed to be there for you—your parents, your former pastor and church, your friends—they’ve failed you when you needed them the most. It's what broken, imperfect people do.” Her tone is gentle but firm.

Tears roll down my cheeks and drip from my chin, landing on my jeans with an unsatisfying splat. “I just don’t know what to do.” I cover my face with my hands and sob.

Sandra puts her arm around my shoulders and lets me cry until I can’t cry anymore. I straighten and drag my hands over my head and down my hair. My temples throb, and my nose is sore from running so much.

“Can we pray?” Sandra asks.

“Yeah.” My throat burns.

“Heavenly Father, please watch over Isabelle,” she says in a soft, soothing tone. “Wrap her in Your loving embrace, protect her, and guide her through these broken relationships and difficult times. Amen.”

“Amen,” I echo.

“Let me give you my number,” Sandra says. “And I want you to call me, anytime, if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do about Andrea and Grayson, but knowing I have someone I can call and talk to is a relief.

Sandra leaves and returns a moment later with a scrap of paper; her number is scrawled across it. Smiling, I take it and tuck it into my pocket. I ease out of the pew and stand. Every muscle in my body aches, and all I want to do is sleep.

We walk out of the church, and Sandra follows me to my car. She hesitates a moment, and I wait. Finally, she speaks. “Isabelle, you’re dealing with so much right now. Please, be sure to maintain your walk with God. It’s easy to blame Him when things go wrong. It’s easy to turn away. But these are the times you need Him most.”

I nod, knowing I won’t be able to speak without crying again.

She rests her hand on my arm. “Don’t let what happened with your old church sway you. That is not how Christians are supposed to behave, and I’d hate for you to lose faith. Especially now.”

“I won’t. I promise.” And I realize in that moment just how much I mean that. Sure, my life is a train wreck, but I know it’s not His fault.

Sandra pats my arm. “Thank you. Would it be all right if I had Pastor Rick call you?”

“Sure.” I thank her again for listening to me ramble about my problems hen I get into my car and go home.

And that’s where I stay for the rest of the day. I ignore my messages—even the ones from Hannah. Knowing my luck, she’ll take Andrea’s side and yell at me. I can’t handle that right now.

On Saturday morning, I force myself to roll out of bed and shower. My homecoming dress hangs on the hook in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, hair dripping wet down my back, I stare at the shimmering purple material. I’m supposed to be wearing it tonight. I’m supposed to be having the night of my life with Grayson.

I walk out of the bathroom and slam the door. It’s just another stupid, boring Saturday. I’ll spend it watching TV and reading magazines that my mother keeps forgetting to cancel. If I’m lucky, Dad will come home. I’m not getting my hopes up about that, though.

The doorbell chimes, and my heart stops. Please don’t let it be nosy Ms. Rhoades. I race down the stairs and yank open the door. Nope. Not Ms. Rhoades. It’s someone worse.

Hannah.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her gaze raking over me.

“I’m sick,” I lie. I stand in the doorway, refusing to let her inside.

She tilts her head. “You don’t look sick.”

“Well, I am.” I shift on my feet.

“You haven’t been answering any of my calls or texts.”

“I’ve been sleeping a lot.” I shrug. “Sorry.” Guilt stabs my chest. There’s no reason whatsoever for the way I’m treating her. I’m being unnecessarily mean, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“So, I take it you’re not going to homecoming tonight then?”

I shake my head and bite the inside of my cheek, so I won’t cry.

Hannah nods. “I probably can’t change your mind, can I?”

I shake my head again. My throat burns with the effort of holding back tears.

“It’s our senior year, Isabelle. This is the very last homecoming dance we’ll ever have. Are you sure you want to miss this?”

No, I don’t want to miss it. But I also don’t want to go alone. Or worse, go and have to see Grayson, knowing I’ve lost him. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I force the words out.

She frowns. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

She hesitates for a moment before stepping closer and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about what’s going on, I’ll be ready to listen,” she whispers. Then she releases me and walks back to her car.

I stand in the doorway and watch until she’s gone. Then I run upstairs, throw myself onto my bed, and cry myself to sleep. I sleep through church on Sunday, unable to spend a couple hours in the same building with Grayson.

Sunday night, I get a call from Pastor Rick and Sandra. I assure them I’m okay and promise to visit them before youth group on Tuesday.

By the time Monday rolls around, I’m bored out of my mind, and I have to get out of the house. I’m still so mad and upset, but I’m done hiding. I won’t lose everything I’ve been working for just because some boy broke my heart. I didn’t let Cam get the best of me, and I won’t let Grayson, either.

I walk to my locker, head held high. Hannah’s waiting for me, and when she sees me, her face lights up. “Thank God.” She wraps me up in a huge bear hug. “If you didn’t show up today, I was coming to your house with Vick and dragging you back to school.”

I open my locker and rummage around inside. “How was homecoming?’

“Would have been better if you were there.”

“In case you didn’t hear”—I slam my locker closed—“I no longer have a boyfriend. No boyfriend. No date to homecoming. I didn’t see the point in going.” Seriously, why is she nagging about homecoming?

“Grayson didn’t go, either,” she says softly.

I freeze, fighting back the urge to cry. Although, I’m not sure I have any tears left. “Yeah, well, it’s not my business what Grayson does or doesn’t do.”

“Don’t be like that.”

I roll my eyes. Last time she said that to me, we didn’t speak for days. “I have to get to class. There’s a lot of work I need to make up.” When I walk into Spanish, Grayson is already there.

He looks up, and a flash of shock crosses his face. I acknowledge him with a small smile and then go to ’s desk. Once she gives me the missing assignments, I take my seat. Grayson’s scent bombards me, and I close my eyes while I blow out a breath. I can get through this class. Maybe.

We take a quiz, and then lectures for the remainder of the class. Proud of myself for not losing it, I walk out of the room and head straight to study hall. At least I’ll have work to do that will distract me from Grayson. He’s sitting in what’s always been our spot, but I don’t join him. I find an empty seat near the far wall, plug my earbuds into my phone, and turn up the volume. Then, I lose myself in homework.

I don’t even realize class is over until I glance up and see the room is half empty. Collecting my stuff, I leave and rush to my next class. The morning progresses much the same—going to class, collecting more homework, and moving on to the next. Finally, it’s lunch, and my stomach is in knots. The thought of sitting at table with Cam and Grayson is enough to send me into a panic attack. But they won’t get the best of me; I won’t let them.

Straightening my shoulders, I walk to the table and sit next to Hannah, just like I’ve always done.

“Hey,” I say, attempting some level of normalcy.

“Hi.” She smiles. “How’re you feeling?”

I groan. “Please stop asking me that. I’m fine. Really.”

“You sure?” She subtly inclines her head.

Vick and Grayson are walking toward our table, laughing. I take a deep breath and fortify my emotions so I can get through the next hour. I can be civil. Vick sits on Hannah’s other side and kisses her cheek. I’m glad to see they’re still together and happy.

Grayson sits next to Vick, and a moment later, Cam arrives with Nolan and Kyle.

“Isabelle,” Cam says, surprised.

“Cam.” My tone is curt. For someone who claims to want another chance, he never once called or texted me while I was out of school.

Grayson’s gaze darts between me and Cam. Suddenly, I know what I have to do to make things right. It might not make Grayson forgive me or take me back, but it might make him finally believe what I’ve been telling him. And it will certainly let Cam know I don’t buy into everything he said to me last week.

I turn toward Cam. “So, how’s Andrea?”

He tilts his head, looking at me with confusion. “Um, we broke up.”

“Oh, I know.” I nod. “I also know you told her I couldn’t wait to get you back and that I kissed you.” I fold my arms on the table. “But you know that’s not true, don’t you?”

“Isabelle,” Hannah warns under her breath. I ignore her.

Cam clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. He glances around as if he’s trying to find a way out. “Well…” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Admit it, Cam. The second Andrea broke up with you, you came to me. You told me you wanted me back. And you kissed me.” I pin him with an unflinching stare.

“You never told me to stop,” Cam says.

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m too stunned by his blatant lie to come up with the words.

Grayson stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. Then he walks out of the cafeteria. Any hope I have about proving my innocence disappears, and I slouch in the chair. What can I say or do to make him forgive me?

“Isabelle?” Hannah gently places her hand on my arm, her gaze filled with concern. “Just give him some time, okay?”

“Yeah,” Vick says. “He won’t admit it, but he’s been miserable without you.”

I force a smile, wishing their words gave me comfort.

I don’t see Grayson again, and when I walk out to the student parking lot at the end of the day, his bike is already gone. He’s certainly good at avoiding me. I drive home, wondering how I’m going to get through the rest of the semester like this. Or how I’m going to do well on this Spanish project when my partner can’t stand me and won’t talk to me. Slowly, my sadness morphs to anger. What right does he have to mess up my classes and potentially my grades, too? I have a lot hinging on this class.

Fuming, I pull into my driveway, kill the engine, and stomp into the house. I drop my bag.

“Mom?” She’s lying on the floor, face down in a pile of vomit. “Mom!”

I fall to my knees and roll her onto her back. “Mom, wake up.” I shake her. “Mom…please. Mom!”

But she doesn’t open her eyes.

God, no, please don’t let her be dead.