Stepdork

by Murphy, A. E.

  I beam up at him. “Really? But I’m supposed to get all of that with my student loan.”

  “You can pay me back when you graduate. You’ll be living in NYC, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist and he kisses my hair.

  “And then later, after a day of fun, we need to sit down soon and discuss your commute to the city, where you’re going to live, the date you’re leaving…”

  I nod sadly, knowing it’s a conversation we’ll have to have eventually. “Yeah, I know.”

  He opens the passenger door of his silver BMW and I climb inside. “Let’s go shopping,” he cries moments later in the campiest voice I’ve ever heard.

  “Daaaaad!” I laugh loudly, feigning embarrassment, really this moment in time will be forever in my top ten.

  It’s noon when my dad and I stop to get food, he’s in the line waiting for noodles so I use this opportunity to reply to my friends. I haven’t looked at it yet out of respect for my dad.

  There are social media updates, photos from prom, comments and tags, but…

  Travis: Is it true you hooked up with Lake last night at prom?

  His text surprises me because I don’t have a clue what would make him think that. I didn’t even dance with Lake last night. We talked for a little while, he asked if I wanted to hook up, I said no, he moved on.

  Raven: Yes, because I’m such a slut.

  Travis: I heard that you did.

  Raven: What game are you playing with me, Travis?

  Travis: I’m not the one playing games, Raven. You know what I want.

  I look at Dad who is placing our order and then back to my phone as my heart hammers heavily in my chest.

  Raven: We can’t be together. I’m about to move to New York.

  Travis: Is that the only reason we can’t be together? Because of the distance? Or is it because you want to see other people?

  Raven: Nobody wants to be tied down for college. I’m doing you a favor ending it now.

  Travis: A favor? That’s what you’re calling it?

  Raven: Does it matter?

  Travis: It matters to me! I can’t just let go like you have. How is it so easy for you?

  I don’t reply. I don’t know what to say.

  My phone vibrates when Dad has our order, and starts to weave through the tables to bring it my way.

  Travis: Lake is an asshole, Raven.

  Raven: Lake knows when to let go.

  I send the spiteful text, angry that he’d believe that about me, angry about what he did last night, angry that I miss him. Then I switch my phone off and pay attention to my dad as he talks about work and where he’s taking Shonda on their honeymoon when we both leave for college.

  At the end of the day when we are putting my brand-new, extra-large suitcase into the trunk of his car, he surprises me by pulling me in for another hug.

  I return it, holding him and inhaling his scent, like sandalwood and citrus aftershave.

  “Do you have to go so far?” he asks moments later, as I’m still trapped against his chest. “Can’t you just go for a vacation with the girls in the summer to the city? We think we could get the money for you?”

  “Dad,” I whisper. “Don’t. It’s hard enough already.”

  “I know. And I’ve always wanted you to follow your dreams, I just wish your dreams didn’t take you so far away from me.”

  “It’s only for a few years. It’ll fly by.”

  He squeezes me harder. “I hope so.”

  When he pulls back, we shut the trunk together with an echoing slam and return home in silence.

  To say Dad and Shonda have been fawning over me would be an understatement. Travis, however, has been the opposite.

  He has been making my life absolute hell. He slams his door to annoy me, turns his music up loud, turns his TV up loud, at all hours. Dumped my clothes out of the hamper and onto the bathroom floor, left me no toothpaste or toilet paper, switched off the hot water while I was in the shower though he denied it when I texted him about it.

  Texted him because he won’t talk to me, won’t come to the door, won’t stay in the same room as me if we’re alone and even when we’re not alone he sneers at me.

  It has been two weeks of this hell.

  Finals are over, school ends in a week and he is making my life miserable.

  He really thinks I fucked Lake and I’m too proud and stubborn to tell him I didn’t.

  His behavior is really starting to piss me off though. He needs to grow up.

  I lose my shit when he posts on Facebook, something he never does.

  “Won a bear at the carnival for the fairest, Sierra.”

  Massive cringe. Especially the photo attached, a shot of the whore bag holding the giant brown teddy, her eyes peeking over the top, the photo zoomed in on her face.

  He’s dating already and I HATE it. I FUCKING HATE IT!

  So of course, me being me, I comment on the post,

  “So this is why you clogged the drain with your pubes yesterday morning?”

  My comment got way more likes than his post. Cella and my girls thought it hilarious.

  That’s what he gets.

  He removes my comment, and then the post entirely, but the damage has been done and I feel smug about it. Oh yes, I do.

  When he gets home, I purposely exit my bedroom and our eyes meet, he glares at me, stomps into his room, and slams the door behind him. If he sees the way I’ve lined up his little character figures for the game we used to play, he doesn’t give me the satisfaction of knowing his reaction.

  Such a shame.

  At dinner, Shonda has made the most killer enchiladas with a spicy kick to them that I can only just handle. We all sit together at the table and talk about NYC and Stanford. Though stepdork doesn’t look at me and I don’t look at him, nor do we address each other. If the parentals notice, they don’t say anything.

  Well, he ignores me until I say, “Momma-beast how d—”

  “She’s not your mom,” Travis bites out, his tone bitter, his sneer in place, his body tense and his eyes on me.

  Everybody falls silent. There’s a stillness to the table that chills me to the bone.

  “Travis, I think you should go to your room and cool off,” Dad warns, glaring at Travis who is still glaring at me.

  Shonda looks upset but doesn’t speak yet.

  “I’m eating my food, I’ll go when I’m done,” Travis snaps, his eyes flickering to my dad. For once I’m speechless. This is unlike him.

  “Travis.” Dad’s seemingly calm voice holds a level of anger I haven’t heard for a while. “I am just about done with your moods. I don’t know if you’re depressed, I don’t know if you’re dealing with something. I can just about deal with it when you’re taking it out on me or your mother, but don’t start targeting Raven…” Travis looks at my dad incredulously. “Because then we’ll have problems.”

  “Right, because Raven is so fucking innocent,” Travis spits and I sink further into my seat.

  “If you two are having issues—” Shonda tries but Travis stands abruptly, cutting her off.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Travis,” Shonda calls as he stalks away and straight out of the front door, slamming it behind him. She looks at me, her eyes round with sadness. “What’s going on with him? What’s going on with you? Did you have a falling out?”

  I look down at my plate. What can I tell them? What can I tell him?

  “Raven,” Dad implores. “What’s going on?”

  I look at them both and my mouth spews the first thing that comes to mind. “I… urmm… I was with Travis’ friend for a little while. I didn’t tell him I was leaving. Travis still hasn’t forgiven me, I guess.”

  “Well, have you tried apologizing?” Shonda asks, so innocent and pure.

  I nod. “It’s complicated. I’m sure we’ll be fine before we leave for college.”

  Neither of them says another wo
rd, but they don’t blame me either which is good. I bet they would if I told them the real story, how I let Travis fall in love with a version of me that was never going to stick around.

  We play a trivia game for a while before we head to bed, Travis returned a half hour ago, but he didn’t speak to any of us and nobody went after him either. I hope he has cooled down.

  Though when I enter my bedroom and pick up my phone, I’m surprised to see a hundred messages. A hundred.

  Two more come through while I’m opening my inbox.

  “What. The. Fuck?” I hiss, reading through multiple offers for sex, dick pictures, even some tit pictures.

  Unknown: Hi, I saw your post on Cali-swingersanon, you looking to hook up? I’ve got a 10” dick just for you, baby, and I know how to use it.

  “WHAT THE FUCK?” I shriek, deleting message after message. Some are even from wives asking if I’ll test their husband’s fidelity… this is insane. Absolutely insane!

  I search for this website and search my number and sure enough, there I am, a photo of me on prom night as my profile photo, on a website where locals go to hook up discreetly.

  My name is LittleMissUnfaithful; my age: 18; my preferences, anybody with a dick. My skills, cheating on people. My bio, will bed jump, I’m not fussy. Won’t use condoms. My status: Looking for fun tonight, who’s game?

  “That absolute cocksucking little fucktard,” I hiss, squeezing my phone so hard in my hand it almost cracks.

  I want to rage, I want to go psychopathic, but instead I calmly take down the page which has been registered under my email, and then change my number. I do all of this while plotting vengeance. This asshole is going down.

  What did I ever see in him?

  I pick up my phone.

  Raven: Brett, need a favor, bae, you in?

  Brett: For you? Anything, angel. You name it, it’s yours.

  Raven: Come over. ASAP.

  I know Stepdork is waiting for me to blow up on him but I have something much better in mind.

  Vengeance.

  I call Cella next, having already vented to her about the absolute fucktard that is Travis, I’m hoping she’ll get where I’m going with this. “Send me the ugliest dick pic you have.”

  “What?”

  “Send. Me. The. Ugliest. Dick. Pic. You. Have.”

  “Ohhhh shit.” She starts cackling. “Girl, let me hook you up.”

  Brett arrives, I take him straight to my room and we start plotting Travis’ demise like the evil little hellions we are.

  The entire time, poor Shonda brings us snacks, unknowing of what we’re actually doing.

  I watch Brett work Photoshop like a pro, and other programs on my laptop. He’s always been really good with computers and tech, it’s why he’s doing a computer science course, though he still hasn’t decided where he’s going.

  “Now I just need his phone,” Brett says, and rubs his hands together.

  “He has a lock pin on it,” I reply, whispering as I move to my window.

  “That’s not a problem. I just need to plug it in for a few minutes. Think you can get it?”

  I shrug. “Not right now.”

  “Well, come here, all you’ve got to do is plug it in and then press this…” The mouse pointer moves across the screen as he tells me step-by-step instructions.

  “And it’ll send it to Sierra?”

  “Yep.”

  I chew on my lip as a spike of jealousy pierces the broken remnants of my dying heart. “What if she’s already seen his dick though? She’ll know it’s fake.”

  Brett shrugs. “We’ve come this far. Now… what shall we do in the meantime?”

  “Netflix?”

  “Awesome. I’m not banging you though.”

  I laugh and hit him in the face with a pillow.

  He takes control of my laptop again and loads Netflix as I text Cella to update her on how we’re getting on. She invites herself over and we all crash on my bed, watching Netflix, giggling like the kids we want to be.

  * * *

  “TRAVIS! WHAT IN GOD’S NAME?” Shonda screeches at eight in the morning but I already knew it was coming as of ten seconds ago when I threw Travis’ phone back into his room, raced into mine, and locked my window and door.

  “BRETT!” I screech after the dial tone sounds and he answers.

  “Honey, I know, I already saw.”

  “It sent to everyone, Brett. EVERYONE!”

  “I know, I am so sorry.”

  “Is there no way we can take it back?”

  His silence says it all.

  “His mom just saw it. My dad has probably seen it.”

  “It’s a really convincing photo.”

  “We are probably going to jail.”

  “Nah, at most we’ll just lose our places in university.”

  I hit my head against the wall. “Well, if I thought I had a chance at apologizing before, I don’t anymore. He’ll never forgive me for this.”

  “That’s only if he figures out it was you,” Brett states.

  “He’s going to know it was me.”

  “I didn’t send that!” I hear Travis yell. “That’s not… I don’t even look like that!”

  “What the fuck, Travis?” my dad grumbles. I’m hiding like a coward, listening to what I can hear of their exchange.

  “I need to bleach my eyes,” Shonda wails. “What got into you? What possessed you to do such a thing?”

  “IT WASN’T ME!” Travis yells. I’ve never heard him yell like that.

  “Show me your phone,” Shonda replies, angrier than I’ve ever heard her.

  “FINE!” Travis stomps off and returns and they all fall silent for a pause before he starts to stammer, “I… I swear… it wasn’t… I didn’t… This isn’t even my dick. I don’t look like that.”

  I could do one of two things. I could confess and apologize to them all, and everybody on his friends list, saying it’s a prank gone wrong. Or I could continue to be a coward.

  Fuck.

  My guilt gets the better of me as they continue to argue in the hall. I grip my door handle, inhale a large breath, and as they fall silent and a door slams, I pull open the door with every intention to face the music.

  Before my door is even fully open, my arms are being grabbed and I’m being forced backwards and into the wall.

  “I fucking hate you so hard right now,” Travis snarls, his eyes red, his cheeks flushed, his hands gripping my biceps almost painfully. “If I ever loved you, if I ever wanted anything with you, it is gone. Do you understand me?”

  “It was only supposed to go to Sierra,” I explain, placing my hands on his waist. Hatred burns in his eyes and the regret I feel is making me feel breathless. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Stay the fuck away from me,” he hisses, pressing his forehead to mine. “I never want to even look at you again.”

  “Travis… it was just revenge, for the swinger site.”

  “What site?” He looks perplexed, angry, betrayed. “What the fuck goes through your head when you do these things? It’s not enough that you’ve already stomped on me the way you have?”

  “I… it’s not like—”

  He releases me before I can form a sentence and stomps from my bedroom, leaving me gasping for air, and on the verge of an anxiety attack.

  I calm myself, taking some deep breaths. I ready myself for the day, delaying the inevitable. I need to end this, put out an apology, admit my guilt, despite the fact the thought of doing so makes me want to throw up my guts or run away.

  When I’m ready and dressed, I stuff my phone into my pocket, praying I don’t get grounded from it, and head down the hall to where the parentals are.

  Now to face the rest of the orchestra.

  “Mom, Dad?” I say softly, knocking on their bedroom door as my eyes blur with tears.

  It opens after some mumbling and shuffling.

  “Did you see it too?” Dad asks the second the door
opens but his face falls when he sees mine.

  “No, Dad… it was me.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I sent the photo from Travis’ phone. It was a prank. It was only supposed to go to his girlfriend I swear. I am so sorry.”

  “Are you insane?” he hisses, his eyes blazing with even more anger than Travis’. “Travis has Stanford’s Dean of Admissions in his phone! He could have lost his place.”

  “I know. I’m going to fix it. I’m sorry. It was just a prank gone wrong. It’s not even him. It’s photoshopped.”

  “You’ve really fucked up this time, Raven. What the hell came over you?”

  Shonda pushes my dad out of the way, her eyes as red as Travis’ were. She points her finger in my face, only an inch from my nose, and her lips pull back with a sneer.

  “You’re a nasty little bitch, Raven.”

  I freeze at her tone as her words gut me like a knife, leaving me incapable of speech and frozen to the spot.

  “Your bullying of my son has gone on long enough. I’ve tried with you. I have tried so hard. But I am DONE. The sooner you leave my fucking house the better!”

  I gasp, my breath catching in my throat as bile burns in my stomach.

  The door slams in my face but I don’t stick around.

  My heart is hurting, my body is sweating. I didn’t mean for this to happen. This was never supposed to happen.

  With tears streaming down my face, I race into my room and grab my bag. The bag I packed for New York, it still needs a few things, so I throw them in, my heart racing, my palms sweating, sobs tearing up my throat.

  My body hurts. I can’t handle this. I didn’t mean for it to happen.

  I look at myself in the mirror before ripping it from the wall and throwing it at my dresser. It smashes but I don’t stick around to find out if anybody comes to inspect the noise. I just head downstairs, rucksack on my shoulder, heavy suitcase in hand. I can’t be here. They hate me.