IZABEL
Jeremy took Monica at her word and left that night. I crept up the stairs like a
guilty convict who’d just been sentenced to life imprisonment. When she returned,
Monica managed to ignore everything by busying herself with packing up the house
she’d sold when no one was looking. A cash buyer from California bid on our family
home the day it went on the market, and the deal closed less than two weeks later.
She moved me into a tiny duplex on Holman Road and promised she’d check in as often
as she could. I never understood how that would be possible, since she was going
back to Massachusetts. It didn’t really matter. All I wanted was to be left alone.
I stayed in Seattle to finish my senior year of high school, trying unsuccessfully
to ignore the rumors that I had “gone off
