My High School Life [Rewritten - Ongoing]

5. [Isabella]

After I did my best to subside the tears, I dreaded pulling up to the gate that surrounded my house. When I got out of the taxi, I tried to ignore the sympathetic look on the gatekeeper's face.

Paying the taxi driver, I waited for him to leave before I faced the walkway. My house was usually comforting, but as I made my way towards it, I found it strangely unsettling. As quietly as I could, I pulled my house keys out of my purse and opened the door.

Shutting the door, I attempted to walk soundlessly up the stairs, but as soon as I took one step forward, the lights flicked on. I mentally freaked out and tried as hard as I could to wipe my cheeks dry.

Taking a deep, steady breath I began the ascend up the flight of stairs, hoping that whoever it was was just grabbing something from the kitchen.

"Isabella, what are you doing?" I cringed as I heard Mom's voice. Of course it was her. Based on her tone, it seemed like she was going to be a little bit inquisitive tonight . . . lovely. Maybe if I don't let her see my face she won't suspect anything.

"Nothing. Just got back from the party I told you about earlier," I answered with my back towards her. "So, you know, I'm kind of tired," I told her, as I tried not to sound as upset as I felt.

"Oh, did you have fun?" she asked. I fidgeted as I heard her footsteps getting closer.

I gulped. "Um, yeah it was great."

"Honey, turn around. I want to look at you when we talk," Mom said, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"I'd . . . rather not." I mentally hit myself. Yeah, like that wasn't going to make her suspicious.

"Why not?" she, of course, asked.

"Because, um . . ." I tried to think of a quick excuse. "I just want to go to bed, I'm really tired. We can talk in the morning." Or not, preferably.

"Well, all right then, I'll go up with you."

"Wait!" I said, my voice going up a bit too high. I coughed and cleared my throat. "I mean, ah . . . it's okay. I don't need you to come with me, you're probably busy."

"Honey, why are you so jumpy tonight?" she asked.

"I'm not," I quickly said.

"Yes, you are." I soon felt both of her hands on my shoulder. Then she turned me around.

Here comes a million of questions . . .

I heard her gasp. "Isabella, what happened?" she asked as she gently touched my cheek. "Why were you crying?"

I sighed. "Look, Mom, it's nothing. Can I please just go to bed?"

She frowned. "No, Isabella. Talk to me, tell me what's wrong," she insisted.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. "Alright, I'll tell you. But can we please sit down first?" I pleaded.

"Sure, whatever you want." She grabbed my hand with a squeeze and lead me down the stairs, as we headed straight for the living room.

I plopped down on one of the leather couches, and braced myself for my mother's interrogation.

She took a seat beside me and wiped my running mascara with her thumb. "Now, tell me."

I took a deep, shaky breath and said, "The party Amanda and I went to . . . people made fun of me." She let out a sympathetic noise and swept some of my hair behind my ear.

"What did they do?" Her voice was as small and hurt as I felt.

"A prank," I said shortly as I remembered what had transpired.