My Stepsister’s Dad Novel – When the big, thick envelope with the name of your number one college choice showed up, it was supposed to be a celebration. Instead, I held the heavy piece of mail like it was a ticking time bomb, checking over my shoulder and glancing around my surroundings as I walked through the mansion to my bedroom in hopes of not being discovered. A feeling of dread filled my stomach, afraid that the residents of the house might actually pay attention to me the one time I very much did not want to be noticed. Do not act suspicious, Lia. If Gran had found the acceptance package before I did, it very well might have become an explosive device, detonated by my grandmother’s temper.
My fingers trembled at the near miss, and the last conversation I’d had with Gran about school replayed in my mind while I kept my head ducked low and tried not to sprint to my bedroom. “If you expect me to pay for your education, you’ll be going to the university your ancestors attended,” Gran announced over breakfast when I’d mentioned sending off my applications and essays to the top three schools on my list. “I don’t expect anything from you, Gran,” I assured her. After eighteen years of being let down by everyone, I was resigned to having no expectations of anyone—especially not my family. I didn’t tell her that I had received scholarships I would be presented with at the awards ceremony for school at the end of April. Invitations had already been sent out, but my dad and stepmother hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had Gran.
Which, from experience, told me they wouldn’t be attending with me. I wasn’t surprised. Every spring when it was time for the end-of-term scholar awards at my private school, they never showed up. A driver always took me, waited in the parking lot, and then drove me back. All my certificates, plaques, and trophies in hand, I would return home, where the only person who congratulated me was the butler and, on a few occasions, other house staff with grim smiles. Once, I’d gotten a hug from the matron house manager. Proof of my accomplishments went into a tote in the deepest corner of my walk-in closet behind the evening gowns that never got worn but still were replaced each season. Sarah, my stepmother, would have had a coronary if she’d inspected my options for events I never attended with the family and found something that wasn’t current couture.
“You’ll be attending Yale, which every other Durst has graduated from for almost three hundred years. You will get your MBA in business, and if you still have an interest in continuing your education, I might agree to allow you to attend law school,” she went on in that regal voice that echoed with finality, looking down her nose at me from across the dining room table as she lifted her delicate cup of tea. “And if you get any wild ideas to enroll elsewhere, little miss, you won’t be getting assistance from our bank accounts.” Remaining quiet, because that was what was expected of me or I would be accused of back-talking, I sipped my freshly squeezed orange juice, trying to ignore the noise in the back of my mind screaming at the woman across from me that I didn’t need her stupid blood money anyway. I could make my way on my own. And business? Law school? Yuck. Who wanted to study business or law when there was an entire world of medical science that was far superior to stupid business courses. But she must have sensed something—that grumpy old hag always could sniff out any kind of secret.
Not that my educational choices were a secret. I simply didn’t mention them anymore since no one ever paid attention when I spoke in this house anyway. “It’s Yale or nothing, Amelia. If you decide not to follow Durst tradition, then there will be no Durst funds waiting for you when you, as they say, crash and burn. Don’t expect to come crying back to me when you end up broke and homeless.” Having learned to hide every emotion from her and any other member of my family, I lifted my chin and gave her the nod I knew she was expecting. “Yes, Gran,” I murmured, so meek and demure, just as she and Sarah expected. While internally, I was shouting and throwing verbal vitriol at the Durst matriarch. Clarissa Durst ruled my family with an iron hand, one I was all too happy to climb out from under when I gleefully drove away from this hellhole disguised as a centuries-old mansion and the money that had come from others’ sweat, tears, and blood.
Like my father, my paternal ancestors wouldn’t have known what hard work was if it bit them on the hip. That had been the end of any college discussions. At least where I was concerned. My stepsister, Elsa, had been harping away on her own choices for weeks now, excitedly awaiting the arrival of her own acceptance letters. Always bringing up the topic with spiteful glee in her amber eyes as she and her mother discussed Elsa’s options every chance they got. Gran never participated in those conversations, however. Elsa’s education would be paid for by her father, not mine. Her dad paid her private school tuition at the same school I attended. Otherwise, even though Elsa had lived in the Durst house just as long as I had, she would have been in the local public school system. Durst money paid for Durst blood, which Elsa very much did not possess. I might have felt sympathy for Elsa if she hadn’t made it her life’s mission to be my personal tormentor.
Pressing the envelope to my chest, I closed my eyes as a smile finally teased at my lips. Skipping the last few steps into my room, I shut and locked my door before going into the closet and repeating the action then folding my legs beneath me and carefully opening the top of the envelope. Turning it upside down, I had to suppress a giggle as my future spilled into my lap. It was the acceptance letter, congratulating me on my admission to Harvard and their premed program. After I read the letter twice, still in awe at having my dreams at my fingertips, I picked up the next most important piece of information in the packet. My scholarship details. Energy zinged through me as my eyes ate up the words. With this, plus the other scholarships I already knew I was receiving, I wouldn’t need a single penny of Durst money to pay for school.
I could focus all my energy on my classes without worrying about working to pay for my basic needs. After lookingthrough the rest of the contents, I carefully placed them all back inside the envelope and hid it in one of my older totes full of scholar awards. Elsa had a bad habit of snooping through my things, stealing articles of clothing from my closet, thinking I would be upset that she was wearing whatever outfit her mother had bought for me. It always drove her a little mental when I didn’t call her out on it. But the truth was, I didn’t know about her theft until she mentioned it. Jeans and a T-shirt were all I needed outside of my school uniform. All the designer clothes Sarah filled my closet with were wasted on me. Elsa wouldn’t look through my totes, though. My accomplishments tended to leave her feeling inferior, and heaven forbid that Elsa Pearson ever be anything but perfect. Once everything was back in its exact place, I opened the door to my bedroom. It was almost time for dinner, and if anyone was late, Gran wouldn’t be pleased.
As I stepped out of my room, I heard a scream from downstairs. After eighteen years, I knew Elsa’s theatrics well enough to know that the sound she’d just made was one of genuine distress. Running downstairs, I came to an abrupt stop when I saw Elsa holding a letter-sized piece of paper. She was crying so hard, she didn’t make sense as she attempted to tell her mother and my dad what was wrong. Snot bubbled out of her nose as she hiccupped and stuttered out each word. Elsa was beautiful with her pale blond hair and those amber eyes. But she was not a pretty crier. My father’s arms went around her when she finally got it all out, but I hadn’t been able to make sense of anything she’d said. From the confusion on Sarah’s face, she hadn’t either, so she snatched the paper from her daughter’s hands. Her eyes widened as she read, but then her shoulders slumped. “Another rejection letter,” she muttered, her tone more annoyed than sad, as Dad gently rocked Elsa soothingly. “This one from NYU.” I bit my lips together to hold back my laugh.
That wouldn’t have gone over well, and honestly, it was beneath me to find amusement in someone else’s distress. But Elsa had built up an account with karma, and it looked like she was finally getting a little payback for all the trabbish she’d put me through our entire lives. “Pearson’s name isn’t enough to get her into a school?” Dad asked, keeping his voice low as he rocked Elsa against him. “Didn’t he offer them money?” “Elsa refused to tell him about her school choices. And she was adamant that she could get in on her own. All he said was to let him know where to send the check.” Sarah grimaced, regret filling her eyes, along with disappointment. Despite growing up side by side with Elsa, I’d never met her father before.
His first name wasn’t even allowed to be uttered in front of my dad. Elsa rarely went to visit him, and he wasn’t welcome in the Durst home. Dad was jealous of him and not solely because he’d had sleep with Sarah. Elsa was Dad’s daughter in his heart, and it ate at him whenever he remembered that she was another man’s child biologically. He spoiled Elsa with any and everything she could ever want. His time and affection were reserved for her and Sarah. I was the interloper in this house, the annoying, unwanted guest. Elsa preferred my father to her own. She even called him “Daddy,” which always caused Gran to roll her eyes. Sarah glanced around, her eyes not seeming to see me standing at the foot of the stairs. No one except for Gran, on occasion, ever saw me, even when I was standing right in front of them. They all looked through me, as if I weren’t there. As if I were a transparent, silent ghost who haunted the Durst estate.
Lowering her voice, she hissed at her husband just loud enough to be heard over her daughter’s continued sobs. “Do you think you could…?” Torment filled my father’s face. “You know I can’t. Mother made her decision on that very plain. If I try to go against her on this, who knows what repercussions we will have to face.” Not even for his beloved Sarah and Elsa would he fight his own mother. Her word was law, unless he wanted to end up out of the house, lose all access to his accounts, and—heaven forbid—have to actually work for a living. Sarah was just as anxious about potentially stirring the pot when it came to her mother-in-law as her husband, but she would if it meant giving her only child what she wanted. “But Elsa hasn’t gotten into a single university, Jake. How will we—” “How about a trip to Paris?” Dad soothed, cutting Sarah off and looking down at Elsa with all the affection I’d never experienced. Elsa’s sobs abruptly stopped, her flow of tears drying up in an instant.
“P-Paris? When, Daddy?” Dad beamed at her, relief filling his eyes now that she was calming down. “The entire weekend. I’ll have Charles start making the arrangements right now. The jet can leave first thing tomorrow morning. You can skip school on Monday and…” I stopped listening and walked past the three of them. No one even glanced at me, too focused on soothing Elsa’s heartbreak from another college rejection. My stepsister got to go to Paris because she was rejected from all the schools she’d applied to. And I had to hide the fact that I’d been accepted into one of the top schools in the country. Pressing a hand to the center of my chest, I shook my head, refusing to allow the hurt, the ache of loneliness, to fester. A few more months. That was all I had to wait before I graduated from high school and could disappear. Not that anyone would miss me. Not even Gran. Except when it was time for me to go off to Yale. And then she’d finally remember me, and I was sure a manhunt would ensue.