The Promposal (The Ugly Stepsister Series Book 2)

by Sariah Wilson

  It wasn’t that strange. Ella had always been very sensitive and emotional.

  She reached for some tissues and blew her nose. I patted her awkwardly. Physically comforting someone wasn’t really my strong suit.

  “What’s with the face?” she asked, tossing the Kleenex over the side of her bed.

  “It can wait.”

  Ella studied me with her red-rimmed eyes. “I’m already devastated. Whatever bad news you’re carrying around, you should tell me now. You couldn’t possibly make things worse.”

  I didn’t want to accept her challenge. But she deserved to know. And better to hear it from me than somebody malicious like Mercedes, who would try to hurt her as much as possible.

  “Jake and I went out to eat tonight. And at the restaurant, I saw Trent. With a girl.” I held my breath for a second. “A girl he was kissing.”

  My sister blinked at me several times, as if she hadn’t understood what I’d just said. “Trent . . . was kissing another girl? Who?”

  “That stupid Bronte who graduated last year. I don’t know why. You are so much prettier than she is.”

  “So . . . I don’t have a boyfriend anymore?” Ella asked, and I got her confusion. “This means we’re done, right?”

  “I don’t know many other ways to so completely kill a relationship. Cheating means you need to drop him like fifth-period Spanish.”

  “Wait,” she said, grabbing more tissues. “You dropped fifth-period Spanish?”

  That’s what she was focusing on? “So not the point right now!”

  She nodded, and I noticed that her crying had turned into little more than sniffles and nose blowing.

  How could I make this better? “I feel like I should tell you time heals all fishes in the sea or something like that. Or that thing you said to me about my mom. Something about chapters and footnotes and how people suck?”

  That got me a small laugh, which I considered progress. “That wasn’t quite what I said, but yeah, people leave. I know that better than anyone.”

  Her biological dad had taken off before she was even born, and her mom had died a few years ago from breast cancer. Ella was more acquainted with loss than anybody our age should be.

  “Right. And Trent’s just a sucky footnote. That should probably just be deleted all together. He doesn’t even deserve footnote status.”

  “Maybe. This all feels like the end of the world, but I guess if you consider the big picture . . .” Ella’s voice trailed off.

  “Not such a big deal?”

  She leaned her head to one side, as if considering. “Nope. Still feels a little like the end of the world. And I’m so smad right now!” It was our word for when we felt both sad and mad at the same time. Which I got, because I’d been feeling that emotion for most of the evening.

  “If it will make you feel any better, I punched him in the face.”

  “You what?” she gasped.

  I showed her my still swollen knuckles. “No one gets to cheat on my sister.”

  Then, to my surprise, she started to giggle, which was about the last thing I expected, and it made me happy. I didn’t want her to keep crying. Trent didn’t deserve her tears. So I would make the ultimate sacrifice. “Do you know what we need?”

  “Lots of ice cream?”

  “Definitely. But I was thinking more along the lines of some expensive retail therapy.”

  Ella looked over at her window. “But all the stores are about to close.”

  I got up and grabbed her pink, bejeweled laptop from her desk and sat back down on her bed. “Yes. But do you know what’s not closed? The internet.” I handed her the computer, and she opened it. I saw that her web browser was already at her favorite store.

  We sat against her headboard, and Ella rested her head against mine while clicking through pages of shoes.

  “Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

  I could feel her nod. “Yeah. So far it only hurts when I breathe.”

  After we bought out the entire inventory of Ella’s online store and ate our body weight in Ben & Jerry’s, I slept in Ella’s bed, not wanting to leave her alone.

  Part of me expected that Trent would step up. That he’d come to the house and explain himself to my sister. Maybe even figure out a way to make it all up to her.

  It didn’t happen.

  Jake texted me, asking if Ella was okay. I told him she was hanging in there. He sent me a frowny face in response.

  But, again, no nightly phone call from him.

  The next day Ella acted more like herself. Not quite as perky and cheerful, but some shade of it.

  “You seem better,” I commented.

  “That much sugar will cure just about anything,” she said with a faint smile. “What are your plans for today?”

  “I have Kenyetta’s birthday party with Jake, and then after that I’m free. We can spend the rest of the weekend eating more ice cream, buying as many shoes as you want, and talking about how much Trent needs to be smacked again.”

  Just then my phone rang. Jake.

  “Speak of the hot boyfriend . . .” I muttered as I answered my cell. “Hey!”

  “Hey, Tills. I hate to do this, but I’m not going to be able to make Kenyetta’s party today. Something came up.”

  “Something came up?” I repeated. “Like what?” I knew how much Kenyetta had been looking forward to Jake coming.

  “Oh. I, uh, have something else to do. With my mom. Shopping. We’re going shopping.”

  I happened to know for a fact that Jake hadn’t gone shopping with his mom since he was thirteen years old. She was the one who told me the story about how he had demanded that she drop him off and let him choose his own clothes.

  Even though I couldn’t see him or his tells, I knew he was lying.

  I just didn’t understand why. “Kenyetta’s going to be really disappointed.” So was I.

  “Tell her I’ll make it up to her.” Then, as if he’d been able to hear my unspoken thought, he added, “And to you.”

  We said goodbye and hung up.

  “Jake’s not coming?” Ella asked.

  I nodded. “He said he was going shopping with his mom. Which has to be a lie.”

  “Don’t jump to any conclusions.”

  I didn’t tell her that Jake had given me the same advice the night before, and my conclusion jumping had been correct.

  Lately it was like I had been forced onto some relationship roller coaster where I was either really high up, on top of the world, and so in love with my boyfriend, or plummeting down to my doom and the end of everything. Before the last few days, Jake and I had always been on an even keel, and I knew exactly where I stood with him. Things were normal. This . . . felt like an ulcer waiting to happen.

  “It’s not like this is the first time he’s canceled at the last minute,” I told her, trying not to frown.

  “Hey,” Ella said, breaking up my downward spiral. “What if I come with you?”

  “Really? That would be great.”

  “To be honest, I don’t want to stay here all afternoon and think about Trent and Bronte. It would be nice to get out of the house and have a distraction.”

  Personally, I’d still be a blubbering mess if Jake had cheated on me. Ella seemed to be handling it really well.

  Or she was just in deep denial.

  I could respect either choice.

  A couple of hours later, we were on our way to Kenyetta’s house, along with the presents I’d chosen for her. They were all ballerina themed—from a ballet slippers nightlight to a silver charm bracelet with tiny dancers in tutus.

  I volunteered to drive. It wasn’t that given Ella’s current state I didn’t trust her to drive . . . but given her current state I totally didn’t trust her to drive.

  She used my phone to log on to her Instagram account, and she was scrolling through her feed. “Oh no. Demarco just asked London to prom by giving her a kitten. His sign says, ‘I’ve got a feline you’d be the purr
-fect date! Prom?’”

  The last thing Ella should be doing was looking at promposals. Especially since she wasn’t getting one now. But why would Demarco’s ask make her say, “Oh no”?

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “London’s mom is super allergic to cats. We had a cheer sleepover at Portia’s house a few months ago, and she has two longhair cats. Anyway, London’s mom had to be taken to a doctor when London got home. It’s why we had to institute a ‘sleepovers in pet-free homes only’ rule.”

  “That’s going to be a fun conversation,” I said. “Good thing Demarco knows her so well and would give her such an appropriate gift.” I wanted to poke fun so that Ella wouldn’t get more depressed. I didn’t handle a depressed Ella very well. That was supposed to be my role in our relationship because I was the moody one.

  “OMG! Topher Larson got the word prom tattooed on his shoulder for his promposal!”

  “Are you sure it’s not fake?” I asked, totally stunned.

  “He’s got a video of him going into the tattoo parlor and getting it done.” She held my phone up for me to see, but since I was being the responsible driver, I couldn’t look. Didn’t want to look, actually.

  Okay, I was all about a good promposal. But this was taking things way too far. “It’s like six hours of a single night. And he doesn’t know how things are going to go with Brie at prom. What if she breaks up . . .” I let my voice trail off, realizing too late what I’d almost said.

  “Breaks up with him?” Ella finished. “It’s okay, Tilly. You can say it. I’m not made of glass. I won’t shatter if you bring Trent up.”

  We pulled into Kenyetta’s semicircle brick driveway. She lived in a huge Mediterranean-style ranch home with a pink terra-cotta roof. Like somebody had picked it up out of the middle of Tuscany and dropped it into Malibu.

  She must have been waiting for us, because as soon as I got out of the car, she came running over and threw her arms around me.

  “Mattie! I’m so glad you’re here!” she said, and her normally dazzling smile seemed even brighter. She wore a pale pink sundress that popped against her darker skin tone.

  “Me too!”

  She pulled away and looked around. “Where’s Jake? I told everyone he was coming and how fine he is. They think I photoshopped the picture I have of him on my phone.”

  Some part of me briefly wondered if I should be worried that she had a picture of him on her phone, but I focused on the bad news I had to deliver. “He had something come up. He’s not going to be able to make it,” I said apologetically. Her big brown eyes were so forlorn it broke my heart.

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “But I brought my sister Ella instead. I think you two will get along really well.”

  Ella came over and introduced herself, but Kenyetta was unenthusiastic.

  “Come say hi to my dad.” She paused, as if she didn’t want to add on the next part. “And Bahati.”

  Oh, interesting. The infamous Bahati, huh? Kenyetta had talked about her for the last few months. Bahati was her dad’s new girlfriend, and from what I had gathered, Kenyetta was not a fan. I was looking forward to finally meeting her and finding out whether she was as bad as Kenyetta kept telling me.

  We followed behind her, weaving in between the parked luxury cars. I hated that Jake had canceled, leaving me to deal with Kenyetta’s disappointment alone. For the millionth time, I wondered what was going on with him. I worried it wasn’t good.

  Sometimes I would get a tickle at the back of my throat. It was like an early warning system that I was about to get really sick.

  Right now I had a tickle at the back of my soul that made me think bad things were about to happen with my boyfriend.

  I didn’t have time to think about him, though. I needed to cheer up my sister and console a twelve-year-old because her crush hadn’t shown up.

  That wouldn’t be too hard to manage, right?

  CHAPTER NINE

  We said hello to Dr. Drummond, who was surrounded by a bunch of laughing adults. He stepped away from the circle to talk to us, holding hands with a tall woman with dark hair in tight ringlets and dark eyes. She smiled kindly at us, and I liked her immediately. I again introduced Ella, and he shook Ella’s hand. “Any family member of Mattie’s is always welcome in my home,” he said in his deep and booming voice.

  Ha. He said that now, but he hadn’t met my mother. He’d rethink that open-door policy then. Instead of telling him as much, I just enjoyed his infectious smile that made me think he probably had an excellent bedside manner.

  “Let me introduce my girlfriend, Dr. Bahati Okafor.” I mentally ran through the things Kenyetta had told me. Dr. Okafor had moved here from Africa about ten years ago to finish up medical school and do her training. She’d met Dr. Drummond at the hospital where they both currently worked. She was training to become an oncologist.

  It was her father’s first serious relationship since Kenyetta’s mother had died.

  “Nice to meet you, Dr. Okafor.”

  “And you as well, Mattie and Ella. But you must call me Bahati.”

  “Thanks so much for having us. You have a gorgeous home,” Ella said, and Dr. Drummond shot her one of those “I approve of Ella” looks that adults were always giving her.

  “Thank you for coming,” he countered. “I know Kenyetta is especially thrilled to have you here, Mattie.”

  “I’m thrilled to be here,” I said in my best Ella imitation.

  Dr. Drummond and Bahati both smiled again and told us to make ourselves at home.

  “The party’s this way,” Kenyetta said, tugging on our hands. We followed her out to the backyard. She was having a glamour/spa day party. The other girls were getting their nails, hair, and makeup done by professionals at different stations, and the entire backyard was decorated in sparkles, pink tulle, and white flowers.

  Kenyetta seemed a little lost, even though it was her party. I wondered whether it was just Jake not showing up, whether she was upset that Bahati was there, or if something else was going on. I was about to ask her when Ella spoke.

  “Do you know one of the things I do at school?” Ella asked Kenyetta. “I’m a cheerleader. Mattie’s told me how much you love to dance. Do you think any of your friends would like to learn a cheer routine?”

  Her entire face changed into one of pure glee. “Let me go check!” Kenyetta ran off and began talking to some of the other girls.

  Huh. Ella distracted Kenyetta without me having to do anything. One item off my to-do list.

  “If I’m not back in half an hour, come rescue me,” my sister said. “Because I really want to get a pedicure done before we leave. The woman they have doing them is from Gigi’s, and she is the best. I’ve been trying to get in with her for weeks, but she’s always booked.”

  Kenyetta returned with a handful of giggling girls, and they dragged Ella away. I took my gift bag over to a table that overflowed with presents. Like a gift volcano had erupted under the table and now it was spilling out over the top. I set it down, and the massive cake off to my right drew my attention. It was white and pink and looked scrumptious. But it hadn’t been cut yet. Darn. Despite eating all the ice cream in Malibu last night, I was still jonesing for some junk food.

  I wondered if I could steal a tiny sliver from the back of the cake when I heard someone ask, “Are you stalking me now?”

  Seriously? I turned around to see Mercedes Bentley scowling at me. “Stalking you? My standards are much higher. I mean, I could bring it up at the next Stalkers Anonymous to see if anyone else is interested in the job, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” What was Mercedes doing at Kenyetta’s house? It was so weird to see two completely different parts of my life converging on a single spot.

  “I know you think you’re oh so funny.”

  “I’m hilarious. If you’re not bright enough to see it, that’s on you.” That would have been an excellent phrase to walk out on. I couldn’t do it, though. Even though I
knew that I shouldn’t have cared, I had to know why she was here. “What are you doing at a child’s birthday party? Hoping to trick some kids into following you back to your gingerbread house?”

  Instead of looking upset at the wicked burn I’d just delivered, Mercedes appeared way too smug and self-assured. “My daddy is friends with Dr. Drummond, and he wanted us to put in an appearance. And you . . . what? Travel around looking for something to do given that your life is so pathetic? Crashing a kid’s party is probably a big day for you.”

  “I’m Kenyetta’s tutor, thanks.”

  “That poor girl,” she sighed.

  I had a whole bunch of repressed feelings to unload, and I aimed both barrels at Mercedes.

  But before I could say anything, she spoke. “Ella seems sad,” she said, using a fake sympathetic voice. “Did something happen to the perfect princess?”

  Something was off in her tone, where she sounded too innocent but actually knew exactly what had happened to my sister. Which wasn’t possible. Maybe I was getting paranoid in my old age.

  Even though there was no way she could know about Trent and Ella, it seemed like Mercedes knew more than she was letting on. Otherwise she’d be standing in some corner texting and chewing her hair instead of trying to aggravate me. What did she know and when did she know it? Part of me wondered if she’d somehow been involved. Which seemed farfetched because it wasn’t like she had held Trent down and forced him to cheat on Ella.

  But I wasn’t in the mood to play her games. “I’ve already punched an idiot once this week. Don’t think I won’t do it again. And I’m sure your suck-up of a father wouldn’t appreciate having to pay for another nose job.”

  She let out a strangled, shocked sound, which I enjoyed probably more than I should have.

  And as much as I wanted cake, I wanted to be far away from Mercedes more. I would not ruin Kenyetta’s party by smashing her birthday cake in Mercedes’s face.

  Regardless of how much that image filled me with a certain kind of joy.