Chapter 1: Isabella

17-year-old Isabella

"Mama, I don't understand the sudden rush"

I speak over my mom's frantic movements, her quick assurance to let me know that everything she's doing is basically non-negotiable. Nothing she ever does is without thinking it through properly. She has to do her checklists, and she needs to do them months in advance if I remember correctly, but I know that this move is going to shit one way or the other.

"Por Amor de Dios, Isabella, Simplemente Empaca to habiticón y apaga ese telefono," which basically translates to 'For goodness sakes, Isabella, just pack up your room and switch that phone off,' and which also means..."Shut up and let me do this my way"

Yes, boss.

Leaving my mother to the kitchen and living room, I make my way upstairs and find myself locking my bedroom door. I live in a lovely town in Malaga, Spain, and I have been raised here all of my life, so moving to America...it's a lot to deal with.

I'd like to think that my mother is doing this solely for change. A new life, maybe a new adventure, but even so, given the current state she's in, I can only say it isn't for a new adventure.

And America... really.

I pull out my phone and switch it off while I finish packing everything up. I just hope that where we're moving to has some pretty decent sun and has a beach I can escape to like I do here.

Pulling my long brown hair into a ponytail I make do in wearing the clothes I have on, packing the cleaner clothes in suitcases, and putting some in a carry-on bag so I have spares because what my mother specifically mentioned was that I'd be sleeping on a makeshift bed and using the things I take with me until next week when the removals men get there.

The joys.

The move wasn't as bad as I thought it would have been and once we got off the plane and we hit LA, my mother became a much calmer and much happier person. Granted, I still have no idea why the sudden move, but I won't complain if we are still living close to the beach.

In the upcoming weeks before I was due to move to college/university, I began to worry that my mom wouldn't be happy on her own. I found that my anxieties were simply me... I wanted to move out, I wanted to be independent, and I was looking forward to whatever happened next. A new adventure and a new lifestyle that I could bring for myself, but the anxiety of leaving home, the fear that my mom would feel lonely, or the thought of being away from home for more than a few weeks scared the absolute crap out of me. I thought about this more and more over the last few weeks, and now that it will soon be my reality and my choice, I have nothing to do but go in it head-on with my shoulders straight and my brain in the right place.

Once we had moved in properly, and once we got our home looking like it was actually our home instead of a blank canvas for a house, we found that all the troubles we had and everything we had also achieved in the move started to turn out a lot better than hoped it would. Mom started to chill out a little better, even though she never explained why we were travelling almost 15 and a half hours away from our hometown, but I didn't question her motives or even her reasoning for it all. I just did as I was told and went along for the ride.

"Isabella." She shouts from downstairs. Speak of the devil.

"Yeah, mom?"

"Have you seen my phone charger? I've been looking for it all morning and I have my first shift at the hospital"

"I have it. I need to go and buy a new one before I leave for college," I tell her as I set my bags down and pack some boxes of the most important things I want to take with me before I head away.

Charlotte Moreno was a woman of many talents; she transferred from the hospital in our home town, Malaga, to be set up here for when she moved over and could continue with everything she had worked so hard for. She's a brilliant mother and is also a great best friend.

I start college in a month but I wanted to get settled in before I started classes, get a feel for the campus and hopefully see who my roommate will be.

➿➿

20-year-old Isabella.

"Yo Isabella"

"Morning Sam"

Sam has quickly become a friend in college. When I finished school back in Spain, and once I realised we were moving to another country, I applied for many scholarships and courses that would accept me. I got accepted for a scholarship at the University of California and another university/college, but my heart was always set on the University of California, simply for what they offered me and what I could gain. Such amazing opportunities lay out in the open for me, but I decided to go with my dream school.

I have always been into design. Arts and crafts, renovating minor projects for house projects online, and I've always been great with Maths; he and Jodi, who are my two best friends, are really supportive of what I want to do. Sam wants to go big in the hockey era and Jodi wants to be a surgeon, so we all have different classes, but we usually meet up most days for lunch and to go and grab food after school.

Being good at certain things is what I like. I'm good at math; it kind of stuck with me, and once I got a taste for it all, I couldn't help but want more, as geeky as that sounds, but I am the geek of my class. It's what gives me the motivation I need. So instead of doing something I didn't want to do and being bored or wanting to skip lessons and lectures, I decided to do something that would help make my life so much easier and so much more fun.

I'm pulled out of my bubble when Sam starts to speak again. Whether he spoke and I didn't hear him, I don't know.

"You going to the Dean's party tonight? I heard he's asking about you"

Great. Dean Summers. The biggest problem I have with him is the fact that the jock doesn't know when to give in. He's never been told no before. He's never had to be told no before because every single person with ovaries sings to his tune and pulls out the red imaginary carpet when he steps inside any room.

"No. I don't go partying, and you know this," I tell him. I know he means well, and I know that whatever he believes he might say to get me to go, it never works.

"Bella, you study hard and you work harder. Are you going to loosen up a little?"

I stop in my tracks, gobsmacked that he would even have to ask me that. We both know I can't hold my drink, and we both know that I have a fear of huge crowds and being sick when I don't handle my drink well. It's beside the point-I shouldn't have to explain anything to anyone about why I don't want to do something.

"Seriously Sam. Did you really go there?"

"I'm sorry-"

"It's fine. I have to go to class. The lecture is starting soon"

Not glancing at him or listening to him call my name, I hurry across the campus to get to my design lecture with Professor Wayne. He's an old guy but he's amazing and he's something that other people take as going 'senile' but I think he's awesome!

"Good morning, Isabella"

"Morning Professor Wayne" I greet him as I take my seat near Jodi. She's my rock here and she's the one I lean on when I need it and she does the same for me.

"You heard about Dean's party?"

"Ugh, bloody hell... I've already told Sam that I'm not going"

"Please. We can stay in a corner and we can go whenever you want to go. I promise I won't leave your side"

I finally caved and allowed myself to go to this party. I didn't dress up much-leggings, a tight top, and a black and cream sweater on top of my top with some boots instead of the heels most girls are wearing.

The night goes by in a blur, and true to her word, Jodi stands with me most of the night until she gets summoned to go to the dance floor someone has put up.

A drink lands in my peripheral, and I glance at the owner's hand to find Dean and some of his friends smiling down at me. It isn't a sinister smile or one that makes you wonder why they are here. It's pretty genuine, but the thought of them even smiling at me gives me goosebumps.

"It's just Coca-Cola Angel," he says as he puts it in my hand. Smelling the drink to know if he is telling the truth, only to find out that he is, I take a swag of the drink and then another, and before I know it, I can't even remember my own name, and I'm a stumbling mess. The last thing I heard was Dean speak to his friends. "It's working boys. Show time," and then my world goes blank.