Page 8 of Isabella and the Slipper

Whoa. Bad girl. I like it. You should sneak into the party. I’ll be there.

I wish.

Did she, though? She usually didn’t mind staying away from the crowds. She liked her solitude. But the thought of going downstairs tonight was appealing to her.

This was not good. She was going to get herself into trouble.

Chapter 3

Chase watched the city lights flash by as his mother drove home. “How do you think the audition went, honey?”

She kept asking, making him feel guiltier. “Fine, Mom.”

“I know, but did they give you any indication if they would call you back?” She gave him a hopeful smile.

“Who knows?”

He wanted to avoid talking about it, so he messaged the mystery girl.

Where do you want me to leave your phone?

Flatwater Park. There’s a loose brick by the bench with space under it. It’s the lighter brown one.

Okay. I’ll hide it there tonight after the party.

Thanks.

He fiddled with her phone. It was driving him nuts, trying to figure out who this girl was. He knew a lot of people in school, but not everyone. He opened her phone app to see who she had called, but it had no calls logged in it.

He opened her photos and a picture of him popped up. What? He swiped the screen and saw only one other photo, of Mr.Morgan about to kiss the pig. He laughed and swiped back to his picture. It had been taken that afternoon. A smile crept onto his face.

He decided it might be fun to tease her about it.

How come you have a pic of me?

It took a couple of minutes before she answered.

I forgot I took that. Embarrassing.

He laughed.

You have a secret crush on me?

The answer came quickly this time.

Get over yourself.

“What’s so funny? Are you watching videos? Because we’re not in range of the Wi-Fi, and that will use up our data.” His mirth was interrupted by the warning tone in his mother’s voice.

He waved the phone at her. “Not watching videos. Just chatting with a friend.”

“Oh. Okay.” She turned her attention back to the road.

I’ll get over myself if you tell me who you are.

He waited, holding his breath, as his mother pulled into the driveway. She killed the engine. “Have fun tonight. Don’t stay out too late. Home by midnight, okay?”

He glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen. “Okay.” No more texts came, even as he drove to Delilah’s house. As he walked up the sidewalk, the phone beeped. He nearly tripped trying to look at the screen quickly enough.

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