Part 1

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I didn't cry as we left Buffalo.

Maybe it was because I'd cried all my tears. When Mom first told me we that we were moving to Amish country, I laughed. I thought she was kidding, then I realized she wasn't. That's when I yelled. I yelled a lot.

Now, im the backseat of my mom's 2018, red, Toyota Camry, stuffed with our "essentials," I watched my city shrink in the distance. My school, my friends, my bestfriend's house, my favorite bookstore, my favorite bubble tea spot - gone. All gone.

"Almost there," chirped Mom, like that good news.

She said the move was to "slow down" and get a "fresh start" after the divorce. She kept saying it like we were just going to get a haircut or a mani pedi, not uprooting our whole existence. But really, Mom only wanted to live with her new husband - a guy who own a rundown sheep farm in the middle of nowhere. She'd met him on a dating app or something. I dunno. His name was Wayne.

I hated Wayne.

I hated his beard.

I hated the way he chewed Tob@cco.

And I hated the way he called me Isabelle and not Isabella, as if he couldn't bother himself to say it right. As if he was trying to p!ss me off.

As we pulled off the road onto a long gravel driveway, I felt like I was being teleported to a different century.

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(ALL BY ME)