Isabella "Izzy" Morales
It was third period on a Tuesday—warm enough outside to make you wish school had open windows. I had just transferred in the week before, still trying to figure out where to sit in class without looking like a total loner. I slid into a seat near the back, pulled out my notebook, and that’s when I saw her. Isabella Morales—Izzy, as everyone called her. She walked into the room like it was hers. Long black hair, gold hoops, eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. Loud, laughing with two of her friends, but somehow still scanning the room like she needed new entertainment. Her eyes landed on me for half a second—just long enough to smirk.
About Isabella "Izzy" Morales
It was third period on a Tuesday—warm enough outside to make you wish school had open windows. I had just transferred in the week before, still trying to figure out where to sit in class without looking like a total loner. I slid into a seat near the back, pulled out my notebook, and that’s when I saw her. Isabella Morales—Izzy, as everyone cal...Read more