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had begun to notice something quite
disconcerting about my stepsister Leanne: she hated us. All of us,
even Dad. We were intruders, unwelcome guests in her house.
Luckily, she wasn’t around often. In the year before Dad and Lynn
got married, I saw Leanne only a handful of times, so I barely knew
her when our families blended, and I still barely knew her two
years later. She kept herself scarce, spending most of her time
hanging around with her friends and pretending the rest of us
didn’t exist.
    These days, I didn’t exactly feel like an
intruder anymore, but Lynn’s house still didn’t feel like home. To
my stepsister, I was just there . Like a coat rack, or a
lamp, only noisier and less useful.
    Like now, for instance. She strode into the
kitchen and skirted around me, barely acknowledging my presence as
I stood there drinking my Coke. I could have been a chair.
    “Where are you going?” Lynn asked her
daughter, her smile slipping. She didn’t sound confident and firm
the way my mom always did. Lynn’s face took on this softness—tinged
with a hint of guilt—whenever she looked at Leanne. Her first
husband, Leanne’s father, had been physically and mentally abusive
the entire time they’d been married. Then, as if that wasn’t
traumatic enough, he ended up dying in a car accident when Leanne
was ten. My stepsister had been through a lot over the years, which
I guess accounted for her wariness toward us.
    “Lisa’s,” Leanne said as she grabbed her bag
and headed for the sliding glass doors to the deck and outside.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”
    “Now wait a second.” Lynn moved away from
the sink to follow her daughter. “I want you back first thing in
the morning. We’re having Jamie’s party, remember? I need your
help.”
    Leanne paused at the door. “Whatever. I’ll
be here.”
    As she turned to escape her blue eyes met
mine for a fraction of a second, showing nothing, and then she was
gone. Lynn stared after her as she descended the stairs off the
deck and disappeared around the house. When she turned to face me
again, her smile was back in place, wide and steady. My stepmom
never stayed discouraged for long.
    “Two helpers for tomorrow,” she said, all
cheerful and bright. “Wonderful. Ten ten-year-olds…what was I
thinking?”
    “Maybe slip some tranquilizers into the
cake.” I tipped my can, drained it, and then tossed it in the
recycle bin.
    Lynn cocked her head, considering my
suggestion, as I slipped out of the room.
     
    ****
     
    “What I wouldn’t give for your ta-tas,”
Robin said an hour later as we were getting ready in my bedroom.
She looked incredible in her black cami top and skin-tight jeans,
and I’d chosen my favorite jeans and a red tank top belonging to
Robin. Even I had to admit that I filled it out a lot better than
she did.
    “What I wouldn’t give for your cheekbones,”
I replied in turn. We had this exchange often. She envied my
figure, I envied her everything.
    At eight o’clock, we applied anti-frizz
cream to our hair and body glitter to our bare shoulders. We were
ready.
    I did have to lie to my father a little bit.
I’d told him Robin’s mother was driving us to the party when in
fact her mother still hadn’t returned from her date the night
before. Devon was picking us up. Lynn had agreed to get us at
midnight, which I knew would be too early for Robin. She was used
to staying out until one or two at the earliest.
    Before we left my room I found my black
sweatshirt and put it on. I didn’t want Dad to notice how skimpy my
top was.
    “It’s really warm out,” Robin said. “Like
summer.”
    “Nah, it’s a little chilly. Feels like
rain.”
    “I’d show ‘em off proudly if I were you,”
she mumbled as we left my room.
    “Would you stop talking about my tits?” I
snapped at her, just as Dad emerged from the kitchen and stopped in
front of us.
    “Leaving?” he asked. He probably hadn’t been
paying any attention to what we’d been