1. Sorry I’m a Downer #3
I know the whole “Evil Stepmother” trope is clichéd as hell, and I wouldn’t go as far as to label Blythe that, but she certainly isn’t “friendly” either.
My mom was killed by a drunk driver when I was six, and Dad hadn’t shown any interest in dating for the next four years…
until Vanessa begged him to take her to a ballet.
Vanessa got to see Don Quixote , and Dad apparently got a new (and much younger) girlfriend when he met a particular dancer backstage.
As expected, with their shared love of ballet, Blythe and my sister immediately hit it off. Blythe and me ? Not so much.
My stepmom told me I had an ideal body for a ballerina and even enrolled me in classes…
until she witnessed me dancing. Apparently, the production of Swan Lake wasn’t looking for “an uncoordinated antelope.” Her words, not mine.
Sure, she always made these kinds of remarks with a laugh, as if that helped soften the blow to a child’s ego, but Dad and Vanessa never seemed to notice the slights.
And it seems Blythe had crafted Vanessa into the perfect Mini-Me, because with every passing year, they became increasingly similar. More often than not, they’re mistaken for sisters.
“Ali looks like a stripper,” Vanessa mutters not-so-subtly under her breath just before Derek meets us at the bottom of the stairs.
As always, she’s made sure he couldn’t hear the remark, and I’m not dumb enough to pick a fight with her. That doesn’t improve Maggie’s mood because, hot damn, she looks ready to spit nails.
It wasn’t always like this.
Vanessa and I had always been close growing up, even after Mom died. Sure, adolescence, extracurriculars, and friends caused us to drift apart throughout the years, but Vanessa had never been hostile—not until she returned home from college last summer, that is.
You know that whole “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” sentiment?
Yeah, well, let’s just say no love was lost from her end.
Perhaps Blythe was serving heaping amounts of her famous “We hate Ali” Kool-Aid while Vanessa was at school, because it was the only thing I could think of to account for my sister’s sudden hatred.
I didn’t see her the first few days after she returned home, but from the very second I did, everything I did suddenly offended her.
And it seems nothing has changed this year, either.
But wouldn’t you know my luck? Blythe is all too willing to pick up the slack, because she carries on with the Ali-bashing as she brushes the barest tips of her fingers over a section of my red locks. “The makeup isn’t terrible, but, sweetie, the hair color isn’t…natural.”
Derek actually laughs. “The last I checked, neither is yours. Unless you really did manage to scare the pigment back into your grays.”
If glares could kill…
Only the occupants of this house and our stepmom’s hairdresser are privy to the fact that she’s graying prematurely, and the fact Derek’s just made Maggie aware of this little tidbit does not bode well for anyone involved.
“She means the color doesn’t look natural,” Vanessa chides. “You can tell it’s dyed.”
Maggie gasps in mock horror. “Whaaaat? You mean people aren’t born with black cherry hair with wine undertones?”
Technically, my sister is smiling, but it looks more like she’s baring her teeth as she turns to address my roommate. “It screams that you want attention. Some people find that tacky.”
“And some people don’t have silver spoons shoved up their asses, so they don’t care,” Maggie says sweetly, even adding in an eyelash bat.
“I just wanted to try something new,” I say lamely, hoping against hope that it’ll defuse some of the tension.
As per usual, my voice has apparently fallen victim to an invisible MUTE button, because it’s as if no one hears me over my sister’s scoff.
“Well, at least we know now why Ali didn’t come home for winter break.”
It takes far too great an effort not to roll my eyes and bite out the words threatening to spill from my mouth.
No, Vanessa. I didn’t come ‘home’ this last Christmas, because I’d rather stab an ice pick into my ear, stick a paperclip into an electrical outlet, and be chased by a horde of ravenous cannibals than be trapped alone here in this hellhole with you bitching at me for an entire month!
My father went to London on business from late November to mid-January, and our stepmom accompanied him.
So, with my brother on vacation with his girlfriend (now fiancée), it meant that Vanessa would be the only person home for the holidays.
Well, that’s not quite accurate. She informed me that her new boyfriend would also be staying at the house.
Blythe and Dad weren’t aware of the arrangement, and it was implied perfectly well that they would never find out…
or else. Since I didn’t feel like spending four weeks wanting to strangle myself with Christmas lights while having to listen to Vanessa and her latest victim going at it all night long, I opted out and stayed with Maggie, all too happy to sleep on the living room couch.
“This is why I told you Ali should have joined a sorority. They keep you out of this kind of trouble,” my sister oh-so-helpfully says to Blythe.
Maggie doesn’t even try to hold back her eye roll. “I’m sorry, but have you been to a sorority party? A little makeup and some hair dye is the least of your ‘troubles,’ honey.”
Blythe ignores the remark—or rather continues ignoring Maggie altogether—and grabs my arms, looking them over as she scrolls through the contacts on her phone with her free hand. “Please don’t tell me you have any tattoos.”
“Not anywhere you can see,” Derek chuckles. He immediately throws up his hands to placate our stepmom, who is now piercing him with a less-than-amused glare. “I’m kidding.”
“What about the party?” Vanessa all but groans. “It starts in six hours. You cannot let her go looking like that.”
Can you say ouch ?
Blythe scrolls through the contacts on her phone, and before another barb can be issued, she presses the cell to her ear. A beat later, we can all hear, “Georgio Angelair Salon, how can we help you?”
“Yes, this is Blythe Sharpe. I know it’s short notice, but I was wondering if you could squeeze me in this afternoon. Everett’s daughter is having a bit of a hair emergency—”
I instantly shrink back behind Derek as Maggie practically hugs my head in utter horror.
“Seriously?” Cutting her off mid-sentence, my brother plucks the cell right out of our stepmom’s hand and hangs up the call. “I think she looks great, and it’s my party. If Ali shows up tonight with a hair color different than the one currently on her head, I’m leaving.”
“Derek—” Blythe doesn’t even get the chance to protest, because his answering smile says everything.
I dare you.
A whopping five seconds of relief settles over me…until I truly process my sister’s and brother’s last statements. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m missing something here,” I whisper, as if that’ll cushion the blow. “When you say, ‘party,’ you’re talking about…?”
“Derek’s engagement party,” Vanessa drawls slowly, like I’m an idiot.
Maybe I am, because the last I checked, that wasn’t supposed to be for another couple of weeks.
My face must say enough, because Derek’s smile morphs into something truly rare.
Anger.
And it’s directed entirely at my sister.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” Vanessa snaps. “I emailed her about the date change over a month ago.”
Shit.
With the end of the semester, the last thing on my mind was shopping for an outfit and gift, leaving me now in one hell of a pickle.
Given the look on my brother’s face, it’s safe to say Derek blames himself for not mentioning this to me earlier, but I can’t hold him responsible.
He knew better than anyone how stressed out I was about coming back home, so he had made it a point not to talk about anything regarding the matter, but it was only because he wanted me to focus on my finals for the time being.
The only error in judgment he made was trusting that Vanessa would actually give enough of a shit to make sure I got the message.
Thankfully, my big bro is allergic to bullshit, because his expression never changes. “Strange. I’ve never had any problems contacting Ali. What email did you send this to?”
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “I don’t remember. It was…‘pigeon’ something.”
“Penguin_pal?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s funny, especially since Ali hasn’t used that email for a year and a half.”
And now Vanessa looks just as pissed, if not more so than Derek. “ How was I supposed to know? I’m not psychic. She never told me she changed it—”
“Shocking, given that you’re the reason she had to get a new email in the first place.”
“Whatever. If you want her coming to your party looking like a streetwalker, drawing God only knows what kind of attention to herself, that’s your problem.
” Like the calm, rational adult she is, my sister storms out of the foyer and up the stairs, her feet slamming into the floorboards so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t break clear through them.
Yep, this summer has gotten off to a great start.