Teenager

prologue

Isabella Valderrama nudged one of the many boxes that were stacked into piles in the foyer with the side of her foot after entering the lofty penthouse of the Plaza Hotel. Every day when she was bolting out of the door to catch the subway to her dance studio – even though her stepmom was constantly trying to get her to utilize the family driver – and every day when she was coming home a sweaty mess from a vigorous dance class, the boxes served as a consistent reminder that in just three days' time she was expected to have her entire life packed up and ready to move to California.

But Isabella didn't want to move to California. Sadly, she was a minor, her biological mother was a frigid bitch who wanted nothing to do with her, and her father wasn't on board with letting her stay in New York to live with one of her friends from dance. So, California it was. Everyone seemed to be thrilled about the move except for her. How could she be? She was a New York girl. A ballerina, snow loving, fuzzy sweater obsessed, East Coast girl. And now just because her parents wanted to capitalize on their already successful businesses, she had to adjust? That was completely unfair.

"Hey Bella!" Speak of the devil.

Demetria Lovato had come into her life - well Bella had technically stormed into hers - exactly two years ago when her dad was assigned to do a documentary about her for HBO. By some weird twist of fate, her dad ended up falling in love with her and after a very complicated few years, they were finally together and married with a new baby as a representation of their joined union. A few months ago, Demi had decided to expand her already famous fashion line Devonne, giving her dad complete control over their new media and photography department. That was part of the reason why they were moving to California.

"Hi," Bella mumbled. She wasn't really on speaking terms with either of them since they had dropped the California bomb.

"I think we're just going to order out for dinner today since your dad finished packing the kitchen. Anything you have a taste for?" New York. She had a permanent taste for New York.

"Nope," she answered instead, watching the way that Demi's ponytail bounced as she rubbed the Burberry baby covered back of her baby sister Devonne, affectionately referred to as Devy by everyone in the family.

Bella still felt like she had to pinch herself every time she realized that this was her life. She had gone from staying in a rundown apartment in Brooklyn to living on the Upper East Side with one of the most famous designers in the entire fashion industry. Jenny Humphrey teas. And even when Bella saw Demi and watched the way her cheeks flushed every time Bella called her "mom" she still couldn't believe it because two years ago Demi had been...well...just a bit of a bitch. She still had her moments even now but falling in love really did have a way of melting your heart. And Demi had a huge heart and a beautiful soul and she was the kindest person in the entire world. Bella could spend hours talking to her because she just felt like Demi had it all figured out. And that's how Bella wanted to be when she was older.

"Well, once I get this one down for a nap, maybe we can finally finish packing your room up. They're sending off the boxes tomorrow, Bella. You can't keep prolonging this," Demi reminded her, shooting Bella a stern look but she shrugged in response.

"I understand why you would be a little nervous about moving but this is a good thing. California is beautiful and you'll meet so many new people and have so many opportunities...this could be really good for you."

Demi did this thing where she stroked your hair and caressed your face while talking to you, just to make her delivery a little smoother, and the most annoying part of it was that it actually worked. Bella felt her defensive shoulders slump as she played with the strap of the Chanel crossbody that Demi had gotten for her in the aftermath of the California bomb.

"Fine...I'll start packing," she muttered, watching Demi smile in success before she turned away from her and headed towards her room.

Bella huffed as she walked towards her own room, but instead of packing, she collapsed on her queen-sized bed and screamed into her pillow. California will be good for you, my ass, she thought.

So should I continue this?