Page 85 of VOGUEish

Isabella turned. A chill spilled through her. The smarmy look on Bernadette’s face was a carbon copy of the one she’d worn on prom night right before she had ripped Isabella’s world out from under her. “Were you awful? I don’t recall.”

Bernadette blinked and then pointed to the stage. A light came on and music started. A stranger walked out. “Isabella P. Chance, this is your life.”

Isabella stiffened. Something was off. This had nothing to do with anyone making nice.

“Isabella, your life was nothing but math, geek clubs, and acing tests until your classmates shook you out of your boring slump. Thanks to a select few, on prom night, you got your first up close look at a dick…in underwear.” The MC aimed his clicker toward the screen. The image she’d sent years ago appeared there. “I’ll be the first to admit, we all went crazy wondering who took pity on you that night. At the time, we were certain it had to have been your cousin. The one who took you to homecoming that year. Any chance you’ll tell us tonight who this”—he waved at the image—“belonged to?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Everyone laughed.

“After that night, you went on to bigger and better things.” He waved toward the image. “Which, let’s face it, was an impressive accomplishment. Why, just recently you found the peanut butter to your jelly.” An image of Isabella and Ryder appeared on the screen.

“Aww,” oohed the crowd.

“Only, it appears Mr. Peanut Butter didn’t like your jelly after all, because he quickly moved on.” An image of Ryder with a pretty blonde popped up on the screen.

Isabella started. Who was that? Was she the reason he’d been out of reach the past couple of days?

More laughter.

“But let’s not just dwell on the relationship side of your life,” the MC said. “You also have a professional one.”

Isabella breathed easier. Her professional realm was stellar. Nothing there to criticize her over.

“Here you are on a donkey by the sea.” An image of chunky Isabella, courtesy of the Freshman Twenty, appeared on the screen.

She’d lost that weight eight years ago. Why was that the video they showed?

“With a little digging, we discovered this image was paired with an article you wrote for The Onion titled: ‘My Ass is Bigger Than Yours.’ It does appear you’re fixated with big thingies.”

Isabella curled her fingers into fists. It had been a humorous article she’d written for a contest. The winning article had appeared in The Onion. After that, she’d received numerous offers from travel companies requesting articles.

“Sad to say, you never have found your balance.” An image of her face first in the sand with Chandler standing there looking at her in horror appeared on the screen. How had her classmates gotten ahold of that image? Who had taken it? Why had they taken it? Was that how Chandler had looked at her every time she’d fallen?

Isabella opened her mouth to protest. To stand up for herself, but before she could, there was a commotion and Chandler, looking like total death, walked out on the stage and ripped the microphone out of the MC’s hands.

The guy swung at Chandler and Size Elevens decked him.

Loud gasps echoed around her, but no one moved to do anything.

“You’re all a bunch of morons if you think for one minute that you’re painting a realistic picture of Isabella P. Chance.” His words were slightly slurred.

Why was he here? Did he think she needed saving?

The other guy on the stage held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, we’re roasting our most successful graduate. Where’s your sense of humor?”

“The better question is where is your humor? It certainly isn’t in anything you put on this screen so far.”

“Aww. Are you her newest lover? Her Peanut Butter rebound guy?” Bernadette shouted.

“Hey, I think he’s the ass that’s been in the news. You know…that Pillar dude,” Bernadette’s old boyfriend said. “Isabella, are you his latest snatch? Did he play you, too?”

The fog that held Isabella in its clutches cleared. Anger took over. “He’s none of those things.” She made eye contact with Chandler. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Isabella, I know I’m not your favorite person right now. Or ever. But you won’t return my calls. And I thought…”

“What? That you’d come here and humiliate me with your drunken he-man tactics?”

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