My Life as the Ugly Stepsister Read online

  “Yeah,” I said, lugging my suitcase, my laptop, and purse, past her and up the stairs. The air was heavily scented with air freshener as usual. Diane’s paintings covered the foyer walls which rose two stories. She was definitely painting for quantity instead of quality. I think I liked the modern art better than the crudely painted floral arrangements. All in all, I’d much rather her spend her time painting than bugging me.

  I couldn’t decide if I’d rather have Caroline around or not. She would keep Diane occupied, but I didn’t know if my ego could take interaction on a daily basis with someone that beautiful.

  Caroline could model, and actually had modeled some in print ads. Dad had thought it was so fortunate that his new wife had a daughter exactly my age. She was actually a week younger. But the sad thing was that when you all the sudden had a drop-dead gorgeous stepsister and you were average looking but not hideous... Even if you were sort of pretty. And by you, I meant me—having Caroline around delegated me to the role of the ugly stepsister. My hair was medium brown and wavy. Hers was dark chocolate and fashionably straight. Her big, almond-shaped eyes made mine appear smaller and sleepier. My face was roundish. She had cheekbones.

  And yet I couldn’t hate her. She was friendly, confident, and popular. She was nice to me, and she had a brain. I was probably a little bit smarter than her, but she planned to go to law school. She’d do really well. Caroline had two older stepbrothers in Atlanta. Boys did not intimidate her one bit. Of course, guys were less threatening when they were drooling all over themselves and falling at your feet. Not that I’d know for sure, but it seemed preferable to the reaction I got from boys. Which was usually no reaction at all.

  I tramped up the stairs, through the cloud of Diane’s perfume, straining a little with my burdens. I reached the top and rolled my suitcase down the hall to the room they’d designated as mine when they’d bought the house. Caroline had the bigger room because she lived there full time. But the third bedroom in the split foyer was just fine by me. I’d painted it blue and picked out a bright yellow comforter for the double bed. I wanted to see something cheerful when I first woke up. Not that I spent much time there. There wasn’t room for much else in there besides a desk, but the closet was set up pretty well. I saw that Diane had removed the vacuum cleaner and winter jackets since my last visit. The room was fine for weekends, but I didn’t look forward to spending four straight months in there.

  Dad’s house was older than the rancher Mom had gotten in the divorce. I knew Dad didn’t like split foyers, but I also knew that he was paying Mom a lot of alimony for the first five years. Apparently, this was all he and Diane could afford. The house was pretty good size, just not brand-spanking new. Since Diane had quit her part-time job the moment they married to pursue her “love for art,” she’d set up the living room as a studio. The family room downstairs was where I usually hung out. Dad’s television was bigger than my mother’s of course, and he had the place wired with surround sound. He had an office in the bedroom downstairs that he used sometimes. Well, it was really more of a computer museum than an office. Dad worked in network installations and traveled a lot. Since Caroline had the most active social life of any fourteen-year old in America, she wouldn’t be around much. I was going to be spending a lot of time alone with the stepmonster.

  I eyed the empty desk. I had my laptop and my iPod. My cell completed the package. The whole portable thing was convenient, but it really made it too easy for people to shove their kids back and forth. My dad had let me just spend occasional weekends with him instead of demanding every other week. I was glad. I didn’t know how those kids made do with a week at one house and a week at the next. Didn’t they get confused when they woke up?

  I glanced in Caroline’s room as I went back down the hall. Maybe I should bring my TV from home, and then I’d never have to leave my room.

  Diane stopped at the end of the hall and said, “You’re father won’t be home until this evening. I was headed to the pool. You want to join me?”

  So, here I was, at the neighborhood pool with my stepmother. It was pretty cool on weekdays in the summer, when just moms and little kids and maybe a couple of teens splashed in the water. Weekends were not so great. On Saturdays, all the beer-guzzling, single businessmen hovered around the pool, stretched out in the lounge chairs. And they didn’t concentrate on reading a nice paperback like the women did. No, they sat there and watched. Their eyes tracked everyone as they moved around the pool.

  I didn’t like all those old guys looking at me. It creeped me out.

  A bead of sweat trickled down my chest. Sun-worshiping in August was not for the faint of heart. I had my chair all the way flat in an effort to disappear so I wasn’t getting any breeze. At least I didn’t have to watch the guys checking me out.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid seeing Diane. She was sitting next to me, and she was constantly moving and talking. I tried to keep my eyes closed. She wasn’t fat. Actually, she probably weighed exactly what she was supposed to for her height. But she didn’t work out. She was soft. And jiggly. She was like forty-something, and she really didn’t need to be wearing a bikini. I guess things just started to kind of sag at her age. Whatever the reason, it just wasn’t pretty. If she asked me to rub lotion on her back, I’d have to kill myself.

  Diane’s arm fat wiggled as she reached down to get a spray bottle. “It’s so hot today.” She misted herself and offered the bottle to me.

  “No, thanks. I’m going to get in in a minute.” If only someone else would get in. But the other women didn’t seem interested. A blonde was drinking beer from a can hidden in a koozie, and the older brunette seemed intent on her book. If one of the men got in, no way was I going to.

  The sun burned into my skin, and I was pretty sure I could have toasted a grilled cheese sandwich on my leg. No way was I going to mist myself. That was for wimps and divas.

  As soon as I got up, dozens of pairs of eyes would be examining me in my bathing suit. Never mind that I’d covered as much as possible with a simple black one-piece.

  The women would be picking my body apart, trying to find something to criticize. And the men, some of them would be looking at me with this creepy intensity that really freaked me out. I didn’t want old guys admiring my figure. It was not a compliment. I mean if it’s against the law for you to date me, then don’t look.

  Ignoring the stares, or at least trying to, I rose, waited for the black dots to clear from my vision, and crossed the hot concrete. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. And then I dove in. The quickest way to get covered up and less splash than just jumping.

  The cool water was a relief. Too bad I had to come back up eventually to breathe.

  When I surfaced and shook the water from my eyes, I discovered that Caroline had arrived and I no longer needed to worry about the unwanted attention. With Caroline around, there was never any left over for me.

  Her hot pink bikini emphasized her breasts which actually were not any bigger than mine. Caroline was completely comfortable walking around nearly naked. She didn’t crawl into a chair and hide. Instead, she dragged a chair from across the pool over to her mother, scooted it between mine and Diane’s, and took her time getting set up. She didn’t have the little tummy pouch that I had, but otherwise I knew academically that her body wasn’t that much better than mine. But she wasn’t afraid of hers. She was two inches shorter and two sizes smaller than me.

  I pulled myself up with the ladder and left a trail of water behind me as I crossed the hot concrete.

  “Hey, Ally,” Caroline said. “I hear you’re moving in.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Caroline settled into her chair, which she kept in almost a sitting position. She started lathering sunscreen on her arms. “So your mom’s really moving to Seattle?”

  I straddled the seat and sat down. After wiping my face with the corner of my towel, I said, “Apparently.” I wouldn’t have minded discussing it with her, but I didn’t really
want to talk about my mom in front of Diane. It seemed disloyal, and if she made any kind of comment, I was afraid I’d lose my temper.

  Did I forget to mention that my dad divorced my mom because he was having an affair with Diane? It really isn’t easy to like a home-wrecking ho-bag. Mom and Dad both say they would have split up anyway, but still. Got morals? Anyway, I wasn’t about to say anything about my mother that would make her look bad. And I really wouldn’t tell anything that might make her look, well, pitiful.

  “I’ll bet it would be cool to live in Seattle,” Caroline was saying. “Live bands all the time, coffee houses everywhere, and hot guys.”

  “Hot guys?” I hadn’t seen that on the Seattle website.

  Caroline slathered sunscreen on her toned arms. “My friend went out there last year to ski. You should see the guy she hooked up with. Yummy.”

  “There are plenty of hot guys here in Charlotte, Caroline,” Diane said as she reached down for her ever-present bottle of green tea.

  “More in Atlanta though,” Caroline said.

  It wasn’t like she didn’t always have a boyfriend. She and Diane had lived in Atlanta until two years ago, but Caroline hadn’t seemed to have any trouble adapting. At least she didn’t go to the same school as me. Being the ugly stepsister every other weekend was way better than twenty-four seven.

  “You’ve never had any trouble with boys, Caroline,” her mother chided.

  Diane prided herself on her daughter’s popularity. That was one of the many things that irked me about her.

  “Well, I broke up with Caleb,” Caroline said to me. “Did I tell you?”

  “No.” I’d never even met him. “When?”

  She shrugged. “Last week.”

  She’d have a new boyfriend before school started. I’d bet my bank account on it. And I was saving for a car, so that wasn’t chump change. I’d been putting money away since I was eight, and I’d probably have enough for a car by the time I was thirty.

  Caroline rubbed some sunscreen into her tan calves. “It’s cool, though. He was obsessed with gaming. He didn’t even answer his phone when I called sometimes.”

  “Jerk,” I said because it seemed required.

  “Tell me about it,” she said, finishing up with the sunscreen and laying back in her chair.

  I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the sunshine. Maybe if I pretended I was alone on a desert island. Yeah. That helped.

  Later, I was hanging out with Caroline in her Moroccan-themed room when this horrid thudding sound started. At first, I ignored it, but then it started grating on my nerves.

  “What is that?” I asked looking up from my magazine.

  Caroline shrugged and turned another page, sending a cloud of fragrance in my direction. “It’s just Jonathan playing basketball.”

  Was he in the house with us?

  “Oh,” Caroline said, her eyes lighting with mischief. She tossed aside her jeweled pillow. “You haven’t met Jonathan yet. Have you?” Caroline didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed my hand and dragged me to the door.

  “No,” I said, adding quickly, “but that’s okay. I’m sure I’ll meet him later.” I knew who he was, of course. I’d seen him next door a couple of times. He was cute. Way too cute to talk to. Well, I thought, glancing at my vivacious stepsister as she led me across the porch, way too cute for me to talk to.

  Caroline could talk to anyone, anytime. Even my dad called her charming. And she was already off the porch calling to Jonathan.

  “Hey,” she said in her deep Georgia drawl that was much more Southern and sultry than my North Carolina accent.

  A wide grin lit up the guy’s face as he walked over. He tucked the basketball under his arm. “Hey, Caroline. I thought you were gone.”

  “Just got back. I heard you out here shooting baskets, and I wanted you to meet my stepsister. Ally will be living here for a few months.”

  “Hi,” I said, feeling like an idiot.

  Caroline knew how awkward I was with boys. She was too polite to mention it, but I sensed she was on a mission to help me.

  “Are you transferring to our school?” He swiped at his messy brown hair.

  “No. I go to St. Mary’s.” The perfect way to kill a conversation—admit you go to Catholic school.

  “Oh,” he said. His hottiness just starting to hit me full force as he gave me a crooked smile. “Well I’ll be seeing you anyway since I’m watching your dog.”

  Huh? “You’re what?”

  He gave Caroline a nervous look. “Uh, yeah. I’m keeping your dog at my house, with my, um, dog, while you’re at Diane’s.”

  “My dog,” I glared past him at Caroline, “isn’t staying with me?”

  Caroline raised her arms in the don’t-blame-me gesture. “I didn’t know. No one told me.”

  Jonathan was antsy. He started eyeing the basketball goal. We’d clearly made him nervous. “I thought you guys knew. Diane and my mom worked it out.”

  “No freakin’ way!” I yelled, knowing it would ruin the unspoken truce I had with Caroline if I said what I really wanted to say. That witch!

  “I’m sure she was going to talk to you about it,” Caroline said.

  Her words didn’t ring true, as if even she didn’t believe them.

  “When did they decide this?” I asked Jonathan in a not-so-nice tone.

  He shrugged. “A couple of days ago.”

  I turned and ran for the house, determined to confront my stepmother before I calmed down and caved in. I’d never put up a fight over anything Dad and Diane did. It just seemed easier to, well, take it. But this was different. This was Mojo and Mojo was not going to be happy staying at some stranger’s house. Who knew how they’d treat him or what they’d feed him. Mojo belonged with me. He slept at the foot of my bed and not on the floor. Or, God forbid, outside!

  Caroline whizzed past me before I reached the porch. I’d never been a fast runner. I was too tall to be a sprinter.

  By the time I burst into the kitchen, Caroline was saying, “Mom! Why didn’t you tell Ally about her dog! And why can’t it just stay here!”

  “Caro,” Diane said, looking for all the world like a cornered rabbit. “You know I’m allergic.” She pulled the plastic off the top of the frozen casserole and set it on the pan.

  “Mother!”

  “Ally.” Diane cut off her daughter with a sharp glance. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But I promise you’ll see Momo—”

  “Mojo!” I snapped.

  “Mojo,” she corrected with a slight eye roll, “as much as you want. He’ll be much happier in a fenced yard.”

  “He has to stay over there all the time?” I couldn’t believe she was doing this.

  “Yes. I’m sure he’ll be happier there than tied to the tree in the back yard.”

  Tied to a tree? My blood boiled in outrage.

  “Can’t he sleep with me? I’ll keep him out of your way. He’ll be lonely over there at night.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m just too allergic. All that dog hair—”

  Hair. I could get rid of hair. “I’ll wash my sheets every night and do my own laundry. And vacuum every morning before school.”

  “No. I’m sorry,” she said again, but she didn’t look the slightest bit sorry. “Jonathan is a nice kid. I’m sure he’ll take good care of, um, it.”

  “I see him out playing with his dog all of the time,” Caroline said, trying to be helpful.

  “He has a dog?” Uh-oh. “Mojo has to live with another dog?” Mojo did not have social skills.

  “He’ll have a friend,” Diane said, swiping at her eye and smudging her eyeliner.

  “Mojo has never gotten along with other dogs. He just barks at them.” Or bites them, but I didn’t feel like sharing that tidbit.

  “Your father thinks he’ll adjust pretty quickly. He had dogs growing up, too.”

  That’s right. I’d forgotten that my father was part of this evil scheme. “I g
uess I’m lucky you guys are letting me sleep in the house.” With that bit of satisfying melodrama, I stomped down the hall to my room and locked the door. I hated Diane, and I hated my dad. But most of all I hated my mother for making me come here in the first place.

  Chapter Three

  When you start off your day in a paper gown, you don’t have the strength left for another crisis. —Ally’s Brutal Teen Truths

  By the time my dad pulled in from the airport at eight, I’d calmed down enough to eat some surprisingly tasty casserole with Diane and Caroline. Dad had been in Phoenix doing an installation since last Sunday. We’d talked on the phone briefly but hadn’t really said much of anything. I ran for the front door when I heard the car in the drive.

  Diane had been standing at the easel in the living room, and she easily beat me to the door. Caroline was out with friends. So I stood at the top of the stairs and waited for my shot at my dad.

  The door opened and Dad gave Diane a kiss on the lips. Uggh. Then he smiled up at me. “Well, this is a nice welcome,” he said. “How are my girls?”

  I wouldn’t be grinning if I were coming home to Diane. Even my mother was prettier. I thought men were supposed to leave their wives for babes, not slightly less attractive women of the same age.

  “Are you all settled in?” he asked, climbing the stairs and giving me a hug.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Dad, we need to talk.”

  He nodded. “I know, hon. Let me unpack and eat some dinner. You and I can have a little chat.”

  Then, he turned to Diane and angled his head toward the painting of the blue tulip. “This is new, isn’t it? I like it.”

  Diane beamed. “I painted that in a day. I’m getting faster.”

  Oh, God.

  My father just smiled.

  I hoped her painting supplies weren’t sucking up my college fund.

  “I think I hear my phone,” I said, even though I didn’t. I ran down the hall to my room and shut the door. I’d done some research on dogs and allergies this afternoon. With any luck, I’d convince my father to let Mojo in the house. Honestly, what did he see in that woman anyway?