Little White Lies

Prologue
Sunday May 19th, 2013
Isabella: Five years earlier

I don’t know how I feel about the move to Buffalo. I’ve lived in Manhattan all of my life, but my mother says that she’s ready to take
the next step in her relationship with Joel. Whatever that means. I met him two weeks ago at my Thirteenth-bash. Since I’m officially a teenager now, I don’t call them “birthday parties” anymore, that’s just lame, and for twelve-year olds.

My parents are divorced, so I had two separate birthday celebrations. I spent my actual birthday with my father. He took me to Disneyland. I know that sounds very juvenile but he’d always promised to take me when I was younger, so when the opportunity
presented itself, I couldn’t resist. My dad and I look nothing alike, but we are basically the same person, personality wise. “Because
that counts more than looks”. He always says.

I had a small get-together at the house with my mother and her side of the family two
weeks ago.

My mother left about an hour ago to stop in town for some things for the three hour trip to Joel’s house. I don’t really know if I like
him yet, we’ve only had one conversation, which was merely an introduction, so I don’t really think that counts. I’m in my room packing up the last of my things and Joel is downstairs helping with loading the big stuff into the moving truck.

My dad bought me headphones and I haven’t stopped listening to music since I got them.
I hear the truck pull out of the driveway and I put my Kaden teddy-bear in before taping the last two of my boxes. My mother said my
uncle Ray brought it to the hospital on the day I was born. He even took the liberty of writing my birth date on the back of the bear’s
black shirt; May 5th, 2000.

I might actually be a little excited about the move. I’ll be starting Eighth-grade in Buffalo in fall, and the thought of having a new life, a new start, is starting to grow on me.

My favourite song just came on, so I turn the volume up and have my last dance party in Manhattan. I’m startled when the sound of a
door shutting sends chills down my spine. I turn around to realise that it’s in fact my bedroom door that has shut. I throw off my
headphones and it lands on the floor. He’s here, in my bedroom, looking at me. He’s looking at me the way grown men shouldn’t be looking at thirteen-year-old girls.

“Hello, Isabella.” He’s smirking.

“Uhm. Hi, Joel. Why did you close the door?” I say, walking backwards until I’m against the wall.

“Don’t worry, Bella. Can I call you Bella?” He’s walking closer to me, watching me.

I can feel his eyes all over me; they’re invading every innocent part about me.

“Joel-“