Stepdork

by Murphy, A. E.

  Shonda also escapes and I realize she’s leaving my dad alone with him. Maybe he can make Travis feel better. For the first time since Shonda and my dad started dating, I don’t feel threatened that my dad might like him more than me.

  I guess there’s no use getting upset about it, Stepdork is family now.

  Ugh. I’m not going to like him because of that though. He ruined my favorite shirt.

  After spending an hour doing weights and squats, I strip out of my sweaty workout gear and dive headfirst into the pool. I put my bikini on underneath in preparation of the swim. I’m not sure I’m allowed to do this on family day but it’s tense in there and I was lazy yesterday, I didn’t get my workout in.

  Not that I do it every day, I skip it some days when I shouldn’t. It’s just another thing I’m failing at in life.

  Brett: Partayyyy Friday. My place. You in??

  Raven: Am I ever out??

  Brett: That’s my gurrrll.

  I open my group chat with my girls and send them the message. Of course they’re in. When are they not?

  * * *

  Fifty minutes later I’m back inside with the family unit after a shower, in my pajamas, watching movies in the living room curled into the corner of the longer sofa. The room is large, comprised of two cream fabric sofas, one of them being a love seat that the parentals have taken snuggly refuge on. Leaving me with the stepdork on the larger settee. There’s a full seat between us that my sock-clad toes are just hanging over.

  His are too but his position is different to mine, he has both legs bent, one resting against the back of the sofa and the other resting along the seat. Like a diamond shape with his feet together. He’s so relaxed, watching the new Jungle Book movie. It’s not very good in my opinion but then I’m not really watching it. I’m texting my friends on my phone about the party on Friday.

  “Can you turn that off?” Stepdork hisses. “All I can see is the screen glare.”

  “Don’t look then,” I reply on a hiss and almost vomit in my own mouth when Shonda starts giggling at something my dad does.

  “It’s a bit hard when it’s in my periphery.”

  “Periphery,” I mock and push his shin with my toes.

  He shifts, glowering at me in the dark. “You’re such a—”

  He leaves me hanging but I know what he was going to say. The thinning of his lips is telltale enough. “I am literally sitting here minding my business.”

  “Tapping constantly on a bright screen, in a dark room.”

  I sigh and lock the screen before placing it on the arm of the sofa beside me. “Happy?”

  “Very.”

  “Get a social life, Stepdork, and maybe you won’t be so uptight.”

  “Learn empathy.”

  “Get laid.”

  “Enough whispering, guys,” Dad snaps, frowning over at us.

  “Then stop sucking face,” I retort, and Shonda starts giggling again.

  I stick my tongue out at Travis in the dark and pick up my phone again, but this time I put a pillow on my lap to keep the light in the shadow. He doesn’t complain again for the rest of the movie. And for the rest of the day he doesn’t speak to me at all.

  My dad does though, he corners me in the kitchen and asks me how I’m adjusting and gives me a talk on being nicer and making an effort with Shonda and Stepdork. I listened and absorbed, but to be honest, I’ve been nothing but myself since I moved in. Stepdork can fuck off but I’ll try harder with Shonda.

  The school week drags and my grades haven’t improved in the slightest, they also haven’t gotten any worse but I know that if I don’t do better my dad is going to lose his shit.

  I decide to save this problem for tomorrow because tonight is all about the party.

  I’ll let loose tonight and be a better kid tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll catch Lake tonight too because we haven’t hooked up in so long. It’s harder now that I live with step-people. The house always has somebody present.

  “Wow,” Shonda says as I enter the kitchen with Cella at my heels.

  I give her a twirl as she twists her finger in instruction and my sparkling charcoal waist-high shorts send tiny dots of light all over the kitchen wall.

  “I don’t know how you walk in those though,” she points to my black stiletto pumps.

  “Me neither,” Cella adds, pointing at her sneakers. “Though they’ll be in my bag come eleven.”

  I giggle because that’s true and check my long-sleeve black crop top which is more of a tit hugger in my opinion. I do look good. It’s been a while since I wore these shorts. They hug my rear so well.

  “Where are you both headed?” Shonda turns off the stove and pours hot milk into a mug on the side. My dad is working right now, I think. Either that or he’s out with his buddies watching a game rerun while drinking shit beer.

  “Kid called Brett, Dad knows his folks. They’re good people.”

  She nods and then looks toward the doorway. Her teeth worry her lip and I can see her battling with herself about something.

  While I help Cella adjust the clasp on her gold bracelet Shonda finally clears her throat, pulling our attention that way.

  “Do you think, and I know it’s a big ask, but maybe you can convince Travis to go with you?”

  Cella snorts and Shonda’s sad eyes flicker her way.

  “It’s not his scene, Shonda, he doesn’t do school parties,” I explain, fiddling with my hoop earrings.

  “It would mean a lot to me,” she pleads with big hazel eyes, “If you’d just ask.”

  Fuck. Shit. Why’d she put me on the spot like this?

  “He’s never been to a party, I think maybe he’d like to go but he’s too shy to ask,” Shonda says quietly now that Cella is typing on her phone. She doesn’t want to embarrass her son.

  “We don’t get along.”

  “Well maybe this is a good place to start?”

  Gah. And Stepdork thinks I’m lacking in empathy.

  “I’ll ask.” I leave my earrings alone and head back the way I just came.

  Why me?

  Ascending the stairs in heels is easier than descending them, except my destination isn’t appealing so it feels like my heels are getting stuck in wet dirt. Fucking parentals and their fucking need to make me do shit I don’t want to do. Stuff I’m too morally nice to not do what they ask because I don’t want Shonda to hate me. Dad loves her and I’m getting older now, if I fuck up with her he might not choose me and then I’d have nothing and nobody.

  My knuckles hit the wooden door in a fancy little sequence, but I hear no movement from within.

  I knock again when I remember that I basically knock on his door every time I pass so he likely thinks I’m screwing around.

  “Stepdork, open up,” I call, knocking again.

  Finally I hear footsteps right before the door clicks open revealing Travis in a dark shirt and light jeans. He looks surprisingly well put together.

  “What do you want?” he asks, sounding exasperated.

  That might have something to do with the fact I may or may not have dumped his clean laundry on the floor inside his bedroom as a sort of payback for what he did to my top. Then I rearranged all of his weird little board-game figures that line a shelf above the side of his bed which is pushed up against the wall. They looked so meticulous and neat, so of course I put them in awkward sexual positions and scattered them all around his room.

  To say he grumbled a lot that day would be an understatement. I could hear him stomping around in his bedroom and it made me so happy.

  “I’d say get changed but you look fine, come on, you’re coming to a party.”

  He laughs harshly and then slams the door in my face. The power of it sends a whoosh of air through my hair.

  “Well, can’t say I didn’t try.”

  Then Shonda’s desperate face comes to mind again and a pang of guilt whooshes through me faster than the blast of air from the door.

  I place my hand on the
handle, ready to break in but instead I knock again, just one more time.

  “Come on, Travis, it’s important to your mom.”

  When he doesn’t answer again I flip the door off and start to walk away when the door opens again. I turn and meet his eyes through those thick lenses. He looks me up and down and I notice his throat bob with a gulp. “Whose party?”

  “Brett Kacie.”

  “Aren’t his parties just massive orgies full of drugs and alcohol?”

  “Dude,” I hiss and glance down the stairs for Shonda the superspy. Moms always have excellent hearing for stuff like this. “Are you trying to get me grounded?”

  He shrugs like it’s not his problem which it will be if he gets me into trouble.

  “Are you coming or not?”

  “Fine,” he says, looking me up and down again. “Am I driving?”

  “Cella!” I shout and she appears at the bottom of the stairs within seconds. “Is Travis driving?”

  She gives me a wide brown-eyed look of disbelief like she can’t believe I actually invited him.

  I can’t believe I did either.

  We communicate silently with hand gestures and wild eyes for a few moments before she verbalizes a grunt, “Whatever.”

  More than anything I can’t believe he said yes.

  Shonda looks positively delighted as we head out together to Travis’ car. Cella calls shotgun but I beat her to it much to her dismay. Even in my heels which I’m almost regretting already.

  She texts me her displeasure and declares that she is not being seen with him at the party. I reply with reassurance that as soon as we get there we’ll vanish. Our duty ends at that point.

  “Why do you get so pissy with me for playing my music in the mornings when we listen to the same shit?” I ask as I flick through his playlist via the console screen between us.

  “I like to relax in the mornings,” he replies, tweaking the volume up a fraction. “Our walls are paper thin.”

  “She knows, she told me how she constantly hears you fiddling your diddle at night,” Cella says and laughs when his cheeks go pink.

  “I never told you that,” I snap, my voice high. “You’re such a bitch.”

  Cella falls back into her seat in a fit of giggles until I reach behind me and pinch her leg. “Cunt.”

  “Whore.”

  “Twat.”

  “You’re both so nice to each other,” Travis mutters, using his blinker as we take a wide corner.

  “How do you know the way to Brett’s?” I ask, frowning.

  “He lives a few houses down from Preston.”

  “Foil pants guy?”

  He nods but doesn’t smile. Always so serious.

  “Didn’t you date Preston?” I ask Cella who glares at me so intensely I feel heat from it.

  “In first grade. First, fucking, grade.”

  Travis smirks, it’s not quite a smile but it almost is. Why do I feel like I’ve scored a point somehow?

  “Stop at the Seven on the way. I need to get some of the Russian good stuff.” Cella points up ahead and Stepdork complies without bitching.

  “You’ve got a fake ID?” He looks at her after parking between two massive trucks by the front of the store.

  “Duh.” She waves her purse at him. “I won’t be long. Coming, bitch?”

  “Nah, you go on ahead.”

  Travis looks at me and raises a brow beneath his thick bangs. “You don’t have ID?”

  I tap the side of my nose before pulling down the visor and checking my makeup in the mirror for the third time since entering the car.

  “Your face looks fine.” He reaches over and closes it, his lips set with a sneer.

  “Just fine?”

  He says nothing as I bat my eyelashes.

  “Why are you so repulsed by everything I do all of the time?”

  He taps his thumbs on the steering wheel he’s gripping with tight, white knuckles. “I don’t like change.”

  Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

  “And you are a fucking hurricane.”

  My smile stretches my cheeks to my eyes, I can’t help it, it’s the first time he’s ever sworn, and I feel like I just had a major breakthrough.

  So I reach over, flick the side of his glasses and speak, “Hell yeah, I am, baby, and don’t you forget it.”

  With that I crank up the music and sing along loudly and obnoxiously until Cella makes a reappearance with a paper bag hiding a heavy-looking bottle within.

  “Let’s go, Stepdork. Put your foot down.”

  The sky is dark and the house is well lit at the very bottom of the long drive. We park closer to the exit than the house which makes sense for Stepdork but not for me as it’s an uneven walk and I’m in heels. This is going to kill me. I should have worn flats.

  People are already hanging out outside around a small fountain, drinks in hand. Music spills from within the large house and its open windows. Shadows and silhouettes move beyond the drapes.

  “Let’s get fucked uuuup,” Cella singsongs and darts off ahead, leaving me with Travis.

  He stops suddenly and pushes his hands into his front pockets.

  I look at him and raise a brow. “Nervous?”

  “Not in the slightest,” he lies and raises his chin.

  “Come on,” I hold out my hand. “Dude, you’ve got to live a little.”

  He doesn’t take my hand but he does nod and then follow me into the house where I’m immediately greeted by my girls, Brett, and two others from school. We hug and I introduce them to Travis by his actual name and not Stepdork.

  They say hi but lose interest pretty quickly so I guide him into the kitchen and help myself to the keg which has been cleverly hooked up to a long tap.

  “If you feel like drinking you can leave your car,” I say to Travis over the music but he declines with a shake of his head. I down my first beer, accept a shot from Cella who followed us in here and then take a sip of my second beer.

  “Shouldn’t you slow down?” Travis asks, his hand on my elbow. “Not to dictate to you on how to drink, but…”

  “Please stop talking,” Cella says and tugs me into her. “Come on, I heard Lake’s upstairs.” She looks at Travis. “That female science dork from advanced-whatever-the-fuck is in the den. You should hit that, Travis.”

  I give him a wink and leave him looking mildly uncomfortable in the den of wolves. “Have fun, Trav.”

  “You are not leaving me down here alone,” Travis hisses, catching up to me. His hand hooks around the belt loop of my waist-high shorts and holds tight as Cella leads us through the crowd.

  I laugh at him and Cella rolls her dark eyes.

  “Upstairs is the grown-up area, Travis.”

  “She means it’s the smoking area,” I tell him.

  “You smoke?” he looks as disgusted as he always does.

  “Not cancer sticks, Trav, just weed.”

  “You keep calling me Trav,” he says as we reach the top of the stairs.

  “And?”

  “Nobody calls me Trav.” He doesn’t look offended or upset by it, it’s more of an observation. As though he’s spoken a thought aloud that most people would keep to themselves.

  Giggling a little, feeling a slight buzz from the tequila and beer I just drained, I reply, “You’re so weird.”

  We enter the first door on the right and I inhale happily when we step inside. That’s some good green.

  There are only a few people in here, Lake being one of them. Lake, his two friends, Depp and Ronnie, and two girls who I’m not sure I’m acquainted with, their faces are familiar, but their names escape me. One of them is sitting so close to him on a wide beanbag their thighs are touching.

  “That’s Rita and Becca,” Cella whispers after I ask her who the fuck they are. “Rita is a junior.” That explains why I don’t know her.

  We have a zero-jealousy policy, but this feels disrespectful. We have an exclusivity clause in place, while we are bo
ning, we don’t bone other people.

  Who am I kidding? A man like Lake could never be faithful, rich, gorgeous, sexy down to his toes, good in the sack, sports guy. He has girls throwing themselves at him all of the time.

  Yet the second he sees me he smiles brightly and stands to draw me into his chest.

  “Fuck me, if it isn’t the most gorgeous girl in all of America,” Lake says and lifts me with both arms around my waist. He kisses me, smearing my lipstick across both of our lips. “Move over, Rita, my girl is here.”

  The girl moves but of course she throws a glare my way. I’m the most beautiful girl in all of America. Damn it if he doesn’t know what to say to get me to drop my panties.

  We both sit on the beanbag and Stepdork sits on one opposite by Cella who has a bong in her hand and is already taking a massive hit. She blows the smoke in my direction and hands it over to me.

  It’s my turn. I inhale and blow out a few rings before passing it to Lake who does the same.

  We all chill, chatting and making jokes about school and life in general. All of us relaxed and spaced.

  It feels good. I love this feeling. The tingling in my arms and at the very tip of my nose, the way my worries about school and life just seem to melt away.

  It feels nice to take a break from my mind.

  I lean back into Lake who is playing with my hair, that is until our happy little bubble is popped and the door flies open and a very naked, very drunk Brett strolls into the room.

  “Jesus Christ, you gay bastard, put it away,” Ronnie cries, shielding his eyes as Brett windmills his penis inches from his face, causing the rest of us to fall around in laughter. That is until he moves to us which has us screaming and stumbling over each other to get away.

  He stops after a few minutes when we’re all breathless and back in our seats and gulps white wine straight from a bottle as Cella tosses a pair of shorts at him. She found them in one of the drawers behind her.

  He pulls them on drunkenly and the bottle circulates. We all take a swig, all but Stepdork of course who is surprisingly conversing with Rita and Depp as though he’s been friends with them for years. Maybe he has, Depp has been in the same schools as us for as long as I can remember.