Isabella

TW: Bullying

“Excuse me. I apologize for interrupting, but I believe we haven’t been introduced yet,” a boy standing next to Daniel says, pulling my gaze away from the latter and toward him.

Daniel glares at his friend. “This is Isabella. Isabella, this is Hugo.” 

“I’m Dan’s best friend. And, you know, he hasn’t told me anything about you, which is interesting, because a beautiful girl like you would never go unnoticed by him.” Hugo’s lips curl into a mischievous smile as he throws Daniel a teasing look.

I can’t help being curious about him. He’s Daniel’s best friend, after all, and that alone is enough to make me pay attention. He’s attractive, with dark hair and dark eyes. He’s as tall as Daniel, though he seems more outgoing and talkative.

“What do you mean, I would never go unnoticed by Daniel’s eyes?” I wonder out loud, intrigued.

“Dan must be head over heels for you, because—”

“Here’s your food, Isabella,” Daniel cuts him off, handing me the plate with the hamburger and fries. “What would you like to drink?” he adds, gesturing toward the drinks on the table.

“Is there lemonade?” I ask back.

“You like lemonade?” He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“No, I don’t. I’m asking for it because I despise it,” I joke, chuckling. “Lemonade is my favorite drink.”

Hugo bursts out laughing and slings an arm around my shoulders, catching me off guard. “I like this girl already, Dan. You have to keep her around,” he remarks.

Daniel glares at him again before turning back to me, his expression softening. “Give me two minutes, and I’ll be right back with your lemonade,” he says, already stepping toward the kitchen. However, I catch his arm before he can go any farther.

“Thank you. You’re very sweet, but that won’t be necessary. Orange juice is perfect.” I point at the jug on the table.

“Are you sure?” He hesitates, like he’s not entirely convinced.

I nod and fill a cup with the yellowish-orange liquid, taking a big sip—I’m thirsty as hell.

“Come on; let’s sit with the rest of the guys.” Hugo points at the group sitting on the grass and starts guiding me toward them. “They’re eager to know more about the mysterious, beautiful girl Dan has never mentioned,” he adds, winking at Daniel, who groans in response.

I chuckle and let Hugo lead me to the group, ignoring the strange feeling in my stomach. I’m not used to people being this relaxed when talking to me—other than my close friends—and it’s kind of refreshing to be treated this way. 

Daniel follows us closely, taking bites of one of the cupcakes I baked for him.

When we reach the group, I choose to sit next to Kim because she’s the only one smiling at me—the other girls are glaring and scowling as though I’m some kind of threat.

As I adjust my skirt so I can sit decently without exposing too much, I start lowering myself onto the grass. However, Daniel reaches for my hand, stopping me. 

“Isabella, let me get you a T-shirt to sit on. That way you won’t ruin your skirt and you’ll be more comfortable,” he says.

“Don’t be silly. I don’t mind sitting on the grass,” I reply with an amused chuckle. “Besides, why should I be the only one sitting on a T-shirt when everyone else is fine on the grass? They aren’t complaining about ruining their jeans, skirts, or shorts.” I gesture at his friends, who are all watching.

“But the grass is dirty. It’ll ruin your skirt,” he insists, frowning.

“Why are you worried about my skirt?” I mirror his expression, confused by his reaction. “You don’t seem worried about your friends’ clothes.”

“Our clothes didn’t cost thousands of dollars, princess,” Carol mocks, snorting in disdain.

The rest of the group—except Kim—follows suit, making me feel out of place.

These people hate me. They’ll never accept me as their friend. What am I even doing here? I should just go to Zack’s party and enjoy the rest of the day with my real friends.

“Don’t listen to Carol, Bella. You can sit here with me.” Kim pulls me down gently beside her.

I give her a grateful smile in return and settle on the grass, ignoring the girls’ taunting looks and the smoldering gazes from some of the boys.

“Dan, what are you doing? Come sit with me,” Lucy hisses when she notices Daniel is about to sit next to me. 

He hesitates, glancing her way but not moving, like he’s debating whether to go to his girlfriend or take a risk and sit closer to me.

“Dan?” Lucy pushes, her eyes burning with rage. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of sitting next to her.”

Daniel gives me one last look and sighs before stepping toward his girlfriend, who shoots me a victorious smile the second he sits beside her. A small wave of sadness rises in my chest, making me feel even more out of place—especially when she wraps her arms around him.

“Tell us, princess. Why are you here?” Carol’s annoying voice cuts through the air.

I turn to the redhead whose favorite hobby seems to be humiliating me, even though we hadn’t spoken before Monday, when I asked Rachel to leave her and her friends alone. I stare at her silently, my expression flat, because I’m not in the mood to confront her. 

“Kim, Daniel, and I made a bet about you,” Carol smirks. “Kim said you’d show up and that you’re nice. Daniel and I bet you weren’t coming and that you’re a drama queen.”

I blink, stunned. 

Daniel thinks I’m a drama queen? Ouch. 

That stings more than I’d like to admit.

“I never said Isabella is a drama queen. Stop lying,” Daniel snaps.

I take a bite of my hamburger and shove two fries into my mouth, trying to tune out of the unpleasant conversation.

“Where’s your brother, Isabella?” Kim blurts out, her cheeks turning bright red.

“He’s at a party with some friends,” I reply, popping two more fries into my mouth and taking a sip of orange juice.

“And why aren’t you there with them?” she insists.

“Because I chose to come here instead.” My answer comes out short and dry. Once again, I don’t want to talk about my life, especially when it’s obvious the people here don’t like me, even though I’ve done nothing to deserve their hatred.

“Why? You don’t talk to anyone outside your shitty group of friends. So why are you here? Why are you hanging out with us? Did you lose a bet or something?” Raymond taunts.

I definitely can’t tell him I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about Daniel.

“I don’t bet,” I state, my voice cold.

“The students from Vista High think you’re a snobby diva because you ignore everyone,” Carol chimes in, clearly trying to hurt me like Raymond did.

What’s wrong with these people? They don’t know me, yet they keep insulting and provoking me. For what? Why?

“Stop calling Isabella a drama queen, Carol. That’s enough,” Daniel barks out of a sudden, making everyone whip their heads toward him, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open—mine included.

“Why are you mad at me?” Carol scowls at him before turning back to me. “I’m just wondering what Isabella is doing here and why she acts like Vista High’s queen bee.”

“Carol’s only stating the truth, Daniel. Isabella is hated by most students because they think she’s a heartless, snobbish girl who doesn’t talk to people like us.” Raymond gestures at himself and the rest of the group.

“Most students at Vista High hate me. So what?” I scoff, arching an eyebrow defiantly.

“You don’t care that people don’t like you?” Hugo asks me, visibly surprised.

“Not really.” I shrug and take another bite of my hamburger before shooting Daniel a smile, remarking, “This hamburger is delicious, by the way.”

Daniel gives me a breathtaking smile in return, making me forget—for a moment—how awful this whole situation is.

“I don’t believe you don’t care about what people think. You’re Miss Popularity. You’re the cheer captain. You’re the princess. Miss Perfection,” Carol sneers.

“Why should I care what people I don’t know think about me?” I sigh, finishing the last of my fries and hamburger.

“Because girls like you only care about your image and don’t mind offending people like Daniel, Kim, Raymond, and me. Girls like you are all about expensive clothes, jewelry, makeup, parties, and dumb things.” Carol gestures at my outfit, her face twisting in disgust.

I place my empty plate on the grass and stare straight at her. “What do you mean by girls like me?” 

“Rich and empty girls like you,” she replies, hesitating for a moment before committing to her words.

I’m done with this girl. There’s no point wasting more of my time because her opinion won’t change, no matter what I say. Why bother?

I let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry you feel that way about me.” Then I glance at Daniel, who’s watching me intently. “Daniel, may I have another hamburger and some more fries?” My lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

“Of course, Isabella. Do you want me to go with you?” he offers.

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. You should stay here with your friends and enjoy your birthday party,” I tell him, rising to my feet with my plate and orange juice and walking away.

Heading for the food table, I can’t shake the thought that showing up here was a stupid mistake.

I’m lost in my own head, scooping more fries onto my plate, when a younger-looking Daniel steps up next to me.

“Hi. My name is Oliver, and I’m Daniel’s younger brother,” he says, smiling broadly.

“Hi, Oliver. I’m Isabella.” I smile back at the boy with blue eyes and tousled dark hair—just like his older brother.

“Can I say something?” he asks shyly.

“Of course. What is it?”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” he declares, blushing.

“Thank you. You’re very sweet.” I chuckle, not expecting that from Daniel’s little brother.

“Are you friends with my brother? Are you one of his friends with benefits? Are you two close?” he pries.

One of Daniel’s friends with benefits? How many does he even have?

“No to all of them,” I mumble, forcing out an awkward “haha” as I try to hide the knot tightening in my chest.

“Are you going to come here again?” Oliver presses.

“Probably not.” I shake my head.

“Why not?” He sounds and looks disappointed.

“Because your brother and his friends don’t like me,” I spit out unapologetically.

Oliver’s jaw practically hits the grass as he gapes at me.

Damn it. I shouldn’t have said that.

* * *