Dad was tired of choosing between my word and my stepmom’s. So when she took me on a girls’ weekend, he gave me one secret way to show him exactly who she became when he wasn’t there.
The slap of the screen door still rang in my ears when my stepmom Angela’s laugh drifted back through the kitchen window, soft and musical, the version she saved for Dad.
I stayed on the porch steps with my knees pulled up, counting the cracks in the concrete so I wouldn’t cry.
“Sweetheart, I heard it.”
Five years without Mom, and I still hadn’t learned how to walk into my own house without bracing for her.
Inside, Dad was already tired. I could hear it before I saw him.
“Lily, come in here, please.”
I went. Angela stood at the counter slicing lemons like she hadn’t just called me a spoiled brat thirty seconds before he pulled into the driveway.
Two thousand followers.
“I was only trying to help her with laundry,” Angela said gently. “She snapped at me, Mark. Again.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Sweetheart, I heard it.”
Dad set his keys down slowly. He looked at me, then at her, then at the ceiling like the answer might be up there.
The name sounded familiar.
“I don’t want to keep deciding which one of you to believe.”
The words hit somewhere under my ribs and stayed.
I nodded because if I opened my mouth I’d say something I couldn’t take back.
Later, in my room, I opened TikTok and posted a clip I’d filmed the weekend before, a short tutorial on waterproofing a match with candle wax.
Two thousand followers, mostly campers and Scout parents.
“Girls’ weekend at the lake.”
Mom’s old compass sat on my desk. She’d taught me every knot I knew before the cancer.
A comment popped up from an account named Diane.
“My granddaughter watches every one of these. Keep going, honey.”
The name sounded familiar.
For months, Angela had been chasing membership in an invitation-only women’s club, taking pictures of the three of us because the committee liked ‘strong family values.’
I didn’t make the connection to Diane. I just tapped a heart on the comment and scrolled on.
She was planning something.
The next afternoon Angela knocked on my door with a smile I didn’t trust.
“Girls’ weekend at the lake. Me, four of my friends, and you. I think it’s time we finally bonded.”
“You want me to come?”
“I insist.”
I almost said no. Then I thought of Dad and figured if he couldn’t see the truth, maybe someone else would.
“Okay.”
I let myself believe this could be okay.
Angela blinked, then recovered her smile. “Wonderful. Bring something cute for photos.”
By the end of the weekend, I’d understand exactly why she needed me in them.
The night before we left, I finished packing and stared at my phone.
Angela wanted me on that trip badly enough to insist, and the comment about bringing something cute for photos still bothered me.
She was planning something. So I made a plan of my own.
Her friends made themselves comfortable.
Nothing dramatic. Just a way to make sure that, this time, if Angela showed me the side of herself Dad never saw, I wouldn’t be the only one who knew about it.
I slipped my phone into my bag and zipped it shut.
Whatever Angela wanted from that weekend, I was done walking into it unprepared.
The lake looked like a postcard when we pulled up: pine trees leaning over dark water, a stone fire pit already stacked with wood, and a picnic table with peeling green paint.
For a second, I let myself believe this could be okay.
We ate. Well, they ate.
Then Angela popped the trunk.
“Lily, grab the cooler. And the tote bags.”
Her friends made themselves comfortable. Renee opened a bottle of wine while Beth, Carla, and Priya claimed the chairs in the shade, leaving me to haul everything across the gravel.
By sunset, I’d fetched water, lit the grill, and prepared most of dinner while Angela and her friends worked through their first bottles of wine.
“Then you’d better hurry.”
When I finally set the food down, Angela plucked a skewer off the platter.
“A little more salt next time.”
Priya glanced at me over her glass like she might say something. She didn’t.
Then Renee laughed, and Priya closed her mouth and looked at the fire.
Angela lifted her glass. “She’s fine. She’s got energy.”
We ate. Well, they ate.
“It’s good preparation for real life.”
I stood by the cooler refilling drinks until Angela finally waved me toward a seat, and by then most of the food was gone.
After dinner, she pointed her wine glass at the stack of greasy plates. “Get those washed before bed. We don’t want animals sniffing around.”
I stared at the pile. Six plates. Skillet. Grill grate.
“Angela, it’s almost dark.”
“Then you’d better hurry.”
My face went hot.
Renee cackled and leaned back in her chair. “Angela, you didn’t bring a stepdaughter. You brought a maid.”
Beth and Carla laughed.
Priya laughed too, a beat late.
Angela sipped her wine, unhurried, and smiled at the fire. “It’s good preparation for real life.”
My phone was still in my pocket.
‘My Weekend in Servitude.’
My face went hot, but I didn’t cry.
I carried the plates to the pump and scrubbed until my fingers went numb while their laughter started again.
