No Place Like Homecoming Dallen, Maggie (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📖

only thing that ever made me feel better when I got like this.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t trying to be condescending. It’s just...there’s more going on than you know, and it’s not my place to tell you.”

“Like what?” I shot back. “Dad’s work is crazy? It’s always nuts. My mom’s social life is too full to handle having a kid around? Well, she’s in luck because I haven’t been a kid in a long time—”

“Could have fooled me.” My aunt’s caustic tone had me tensing.

“What?”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m trying to be nice here.”

I gave a huff of impatience. That’s how it sounded, at least. Really I’d just needed to breathe. This car was too small and the conversation was choking the life out of me. “Don’t be nice. I like it when you give it to me straight.” I half turned to face her. “Say what you want to say and let’s get this heart-to-heart over with, yeah?”

She blew out a harsh breath that had her too-long bangs fluttering again. Would someone get this woman a haircut already? “I know you’ve gotten the crappy end of this stick, all right? I’m guessing this isn’t the first time they’ve…”

“Forgotten about me?” I filled in the blanks for her.

“They didn’t forget.” She trailed off in the face of my glare. “You’re not a bad kid, Isla, but it’s time you realized it’s not always about you. Not everything is about you.”

I stared at her for a long moment. I wanted to scoff and shrug off the words, but they clung and they scalded. Something about her tone—the way there was no pity in it, and not even judgement—it made the words more insidious. It had them crawling inside of me and burrowing into my muscles.

“I just want to get back to my life,” I said. “Is that so wrong?”

“Was your life so perfect?” she shot back.

No. Of course it wasn’t. I don’t have to tell her that. But it was mine. And the only thing worse than losing my family and my friends and the only life I’ve ever known, was admitting that it went on without me. That no one missed me when I was gone.

That maybe I didn’t matter to anyone at all.

“What is it that you’re so eager to get back to?” she asked.

I opened my mouth and shut it. She wouldn’t understand. “It’s my life, Aunt Lucy.”

“No, Isla, it wasn’t. That was where you lived and went to school. Sure, you had people there who you’ll miss, people who’ll miss you...”

I turned away before she could see me flinch.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s your whole life. Your life is wherever you are. Your life is what you make it.”

My lungs were underwater. I couldn’t breathe as I reached for the door. “Your life is what you make it?” I shook my head as I opened it and slid out. “Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”

“Kid, come back,” she called after me.

But I shut the door before she could say any more. I couldn’t sit there and listen, and I definitely couldn’t talk anymore.

Eleven

Isla

Only one thought kept ringing in my head as I walked away from Aunt Lucy’s car.

They didn’t want me back. My mom had talked to her and they didn’t want me back. The lawn seemed to tilt under my feet as I lurched forward.

Crap.

Crap, crap, crap.

This was so not what I needed. I was supposed to be cool. I was supposed to be charming. I was supposed to be the opposite of desperate when I saw Flynn again and tried to explain. And instead I was striding toward the Garners’ castle feeling for all the world like my insides were trying to get out. My throat was too tight, my muscles were too tense. My body was hot and cold all at once. But the worst was my lungs.

They weren’t getting air. Well, they were. Technically, my lungs were working. I could feel them pumping away, but there was no oxygen in this air. I tugged at the stupid Peter Pan collar of this dress and tried to gulp in deep breaths.

All that got me was a weird look from the old guy delivering balloons.

More balloons.

Because that was clearly what this explosion of rainbow colored vomit needed. More balloons. I headed in the direction that the balloon delivery guy had come from on the side of the house. Something told me I wouldn’t be welcomed graciously if I tried to come in through the front door.

I was the help now, apparently. This was what my life had come to.

I was the help, and I was dressed like freakin’ Dorothy. Logan had moved on to someone new, and my parents didn’t want me back.

My own parents didn’t want me.

I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath. Don’t go there. Do not go there. Do not—

Eyes still closed, I ran right into something.

“Oof!”

Or someone.

“Hey, watch where you’re—Isla?”

Crap. I opened my eyes to see...yup. It was official. This nightmare day just got worse. “Oh, hey Flynn.”

I tried my best for bright and cheerful, but what came out was breathy and pathetic. My lips refused to curve into a smile, and judging by the flinch I saw coming from Flynn’s friend, it probably didn’t even come close.

Flynn frowned and stepped closer, which did nothing to help my oxygen issue. I scrambled backwards to get some breathing room, but in my hurry to back up, I forgot about the fact that I was wearing used ruby slippers and one shoe slipped off my foot, sending me off balance as I scrambled to find my footing.

“Whoa, whoa.” Flynn reached out and caught me by my arms right before I fell back on my butt. Leaning down, he lowered his voice so a passing clown couldn’t hear.

That’s right. A clown.

Because this day wasn’t nightmarish enough.

“Isla, are you okay?” His brow was furrowed in concern. Like he was actually