6-year-old Isabella Garcia Shapiro sighed heavily, tucked a stray strand of jet-black hair behind her ear, smoothed her new pink skirt down, and entered her room. Her bed and vanity were all there, her room was painted perfectly, but the rest of it was all boxes. “Sure, Mama,” she replied flatly. “I hate 'Danville'!” Isabella added moodily. She raised her eyes and locked gazes with a pair of dark blue eyes. Isabella dragged a shoe through the grass, cheeks still red. “Mama says I’m not allowed to leave the yard. But, uh…whatcha doin’?” She put her hands behind her back and tilted her head.