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With trays full of food, the three of us—Natalie, Vianna, and I—find an empty spot at one of the tables in the commons. Stephanie doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Natalie to see Annabelle. All Annabelle remembers is her big sister stabbed her in the leg with something and it hurt, really super bad. And of course nobody sticks up for Natalie.
“I’m glad Moo-Moo’s okay. She can hate me forever as long as she’s okay,” Natalie says, picking at her food.
“Have you talked to your dad?” I open my sandwich and remove the brown shreds of lettuce. Having the sub shop at school doesn’t mean we get primo lunches.
“He’s tried to call the past few days. I’m not talking to him. They won’t let me see Moo-Moo, so there’s no reason to talk. He can kiss my ass,” Natalie says.
“Does your brother go over there?” I ask.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t tell me anything,” Natalie says.
“What does your mom say?” Vianna asks.
“She said that new moms are freaky. And if they only have one kid they’re worse. Then she went all psycho on me about how she’s way prettier than Stephanie. You know how my mom is. It’s all about her. But my baby sister thinks I hurt her. The longer they let her believe I hurt her, the harder it’s gonna be for her to forgive me.” Natalie pushes her food away.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I pick apart my bun, which has stale pieces that are dry and discolored.
“That’s not what they think,” Natalie says.
“Do you want Alicia to talk to Stephanie?” I ask.
“You and your perfect stepmom, how did you luck out?” Natalie huffs.
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling guilty.
I haven’t told my friends about the conversation Alicia had with their stepmothers at the hospital. My friends are mad enough that my stepmonster’s nice—maybe mad isn’t the right word. More like jealous. I think they’d like to push me out of their club, but the fact that my father’s still an idiot saves me. And I’m pretty sure that rules four through seven help as well.
Vianna’s eyes light up. “My dad’s furious that I’m going to school in Nebraska. He tried working with his lawyer to tie up my college fund. My mom put an end to that, though. She sent my dad a copy of my first semester bill paid in full. And she included a Proud Husker Parent bumper sticker.”
“How’d that go over?” I ask.
“The bumper sticker was cut into tiny pieces and mailed back to me. Not to my mom, but me,” Vianna says.
“He needs to grow up.” I shake my head. “I’ve come to the conclusion that fathers are worse than little girls when they don’t get their way.”
“He didn’t do it. Wendy did. I called him. He was embarrassed, I could tell. He got all quiet and didn’t know what to say.” Vianna takes a bite of her fries. She chews, swallows, and then says, “I finally told him that he needed to figure it out. I wasn’t going to fight with him or his wife anymore. I told him it wasn’t my fault her son failed out of high school and couldn’t keep a job. I told him it wasn’t my fault my mother had natural beauty and a brain that went along with it. His new wife needed to get over it. I told him that he should love his wife, I never said he shouldn’t. I told him I was sick of competing with her, though, and I was done. If he wanted to see me, that was fine. If not, I’d survive. I have a mom. Then I hung up on him. He hasn’t called me since.”
Vianna takes a huge bite of her chicken sandwich, and Natalie and I follow suit. I’m so proud of my timid friend. The tables are turning.