Summer With My Stepsisters

My mother remarried about a week before I started 11th grade. Her new husband’s name was Aaron, and he was a pretty nice guy. His wife had died about 6 years earlier, and my dad was a deadbeat who split when I was really little, so I think both Aaron and my mom were ready to try marriage again.

Even though I grew up essentially without a father, the really tricky thing about moving in with Aaron wasn’t actually Aaron himself--it was his daughters. Aaron had 3 from his original marriage: Marisa and Jessica, who were twins and a year older than I was, and an older daughter Traci who was already in college. After living my whole life as an only child, it felt like I woke up one August morning to learn I had sisters.

I was dreading having to live with Marisa and Jessica. Traci wasn’t so bad, since almost immediately after the wedding she left for college and was almost never around, but I knew I’d be seeing the twins every day for the next year, at least. There was no reason to be hopeful we’d get along--the twins were two of the most popular girls at school, smart and pretty and loved by everyone. And I was, well, I was a nerd. I had friends, sure, but we were all the type who’d never get invited to hang with the cool kids. Even the prospect of moving in with two of the hottest girls in school didn’t cheer me up--I knew I stood no chance with them, and having to be constantly reminded of just how out of my league they were didn’t sound like my idea of a good time. Yet there I was, thrust into close quarters with the beautiful All-American girls who were, oh yeah, my new sisters.