by Sheri Duff
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Once I’m around the corner and out of sight of the Trask home, I call my mom. She doesn’t answer. She’s probably still asleep, or in the shower. Who knows, London time is all jacked up. In a few hours, she will send me my morning quote, thinking it will help me get through the day. I don’t think I can deal with seeing one when I wake. So I send her one.
Love you—If you ever think of getting married again, pick someone the opposite of my father. He’s an ass.
I couldn’t stay at the house. After my dad blurted out that Jack was taking Sidney to homecoming, I walked out of the room. I got my keys and I left. My dad is probably standing in the same spot wondering what he did wrong. No, never mind. He’s in his den watching films for the upcoming game. He probably has no clue.
Natalie’s working at Pollywog’s but I won’t go there. I won’t take the chance of running into Sidney’s new boyfriend/idiot/linebacker/my father’s new best buddy, Jack. Vianna’s out to dinner with her mom. I head to Jillian’s Second Time Around.
There are a few customers in the store and Gaby is sitting by the register with an apple in one hand and a book in the other. It’s almost closing time, but Gaby isn’t aware of anything but her novel. Her reading glasses, thick and black, look like they belong…in this era. Wow. The curls in her hair are soft, they frame her face perfectly, and it looks…normal. She barely has any makeup on. Simple foundation, mascara, and lip gloss. She’s wearing cuffed jeans and a black, button-down shirt.
“Must be good if you didn’t hear me come in,” I say. “What are you reading?”
“Uh-huh.” Her eyes never leave the page. The apple looks like it’ll take the rest of the night to eat. It’s enormous.
I look at the cover of the book, How to Deal with HIS Kids, by Dr. Stacie Hunter-Blaine. The book has a picture of a teenage girl rolling her eyes and a mischievous preteen boy with a toad in his hand. “What are you reading? And why?” I ask.
She looks up. Her face turns the shade of the apple. “The guy I’m dating, Sam. He has kids, two daughters. They hate me.”
“They can’t hate you.” Nobody hates Gaby. She’s the nicest person. Seriously, if anyone hates Gaby, they’re the ones with issues.
“You hate your stepmom.” She chomps a bite out of the apple while raising her eyebrows.
“You’re not their stepmom.” My voice sounds angry, I’ve turned. Feeling like I have to protect Sam’s daughters from Gaby doesn’t seem right, but women who date guys with kids don’t make sense either. At least not in my world.
“That’s what they said.” She crushes her teeth into the apple again.
I swear that piece of fruit isn’t shrinking.
“I think we need to establish some rules.” I pull a notebook from under the counter. It’s something I doodle in when it’s slow.
“Rules are good. Rule number one: I think they should be nice to me.” Gaby says.
“The rules aren’t for them, they’re for you,” I say, opening the book to a blank page before slapping it onto the counter and scaring the last of the customers out of the shop. I can’t believe the woman in front of me is acting like this. She, of all people, should understand what those girls are going through. Hasn’t she been listening or paying attention to me and my friends?
“What do you mean they’re for me?” She gives me a stupid, shocked look. Gaby sets the self-help book down. I’m thinking the trash is a better place for it.
“You’re the one stepping into their territory. If you’re hoping for any kind of civil relationship with his kids, you’re the one who needs rules,” I say.
Nobody understands this. The girlfriend/stepparent wasn’t there first. It’s not our fault that our parents couldn’t work it out. First we deal with the divorce, and then we need to deal with the intruder? Really, it’s not fair.
I find out that the girls, Sabrina and Nicole, are very close to their mother. Their parents have been divorced for four years and their parents rarely date. Sabrina’s thirteen and Nicole’s ten.
New Girlfriend Rules for Gaby:
1. You are not their mother—they already have one.
2. You are not their friend—really. You seem cool and most teenagers adore you, but you’re not dating other teenagers’ fathers.
3. Don’t hoard all of their father’s time—they had him first.
4. Don’t cut in on their time with their dad—they still need time alone with him.
5. Don’t be jealous of them—they are 13 and 10. How old are you? Act like it.
6. Remember how much you love your father. Now put yourself in their shoes!
“That’s it. The rules can change when and if the situation changes. Until then, you need to follow the rules.” I rip the paper out of the notebook and plop it in front of Gaby.
Then I take her stupid “How to Deal” book and drop it into the trash on my way out the door.