Two Steps Forward

Chapter 1 Annabel Bubbe says I should try to take five deep breaths before I snap at my mom. Bubbe would know. She had years of practice raising my mother and learning how impossible Angelina could be. "Annabel, you're sulking again," Angelina said. My mother was actually trying to put on lipstick while the baby squirmed in her lap and the plane bumped through turbulence. One . . . two . . . three . . . "Am NOT!" I snapped, even though I was. I grabbed my baby half sister from Angelina's lap and kissed the baby's soft, warm head. Pretty soon Ariel's little head is going to look like a prune from all the times I use it to shut my mouth when it wants to lash out at our mother. Better to sulk than all out fight, I suppose. My mom and I hardly ever used to fight but now "GO AWAY!" and "How dare you speak to me in that tone?" are like the foundation of half our conversations. She says it's because of my teenage hormones, which it's NOT. She is the problem, not me. She starts the fights with me, just like she starts them with Harvey, my stepdad. Angelina has so many fights with him that now we're on our way from New York to Los Angeles to spend the summer away from him, to give Harvey and Angelina "space," as she says. Like they've tried so hard on "together" before needing "space." They've been married barely a year. Angelina reached for the floor and lifted my purse -- a sweet little Prada knockoff from Canal Street, ten dollars after bargaining the guy down from fifteen, thank you very much. She unzipped the purse and was about to put her hand inside it, right in front of me! "Don't touch my bag!" I snapped, again. I grabbed my purse and placed the baby back on Angelina's lap to keep my mother's hands busy and off my stuff. I mean, I can't believe she did that right in front of me. Does she not know a fourteen-year-old girl's purse/backpack/EVERYTHING is sacred space, completely off-limits to the mother species? Angelina shook her head. Her shiny honey-colored tresses, the pride of so many shampoo commercials, fell perfectly into line along her shoulders. "Oh, teen moody girl, so sorry. I just wanted a compact mirror to put on my lipstick. Relax. It's not like I was looking for your diary or anything." "I don't keep a diary!" God, how uncool does she think I am, anyway? Diaries: how common. Angelina pointed out the window, like she could distract me from my rising fury. "Look, the Rocky Mountains. Won't be long till Los Angeles now, Annabel baby." La-la land. So-la-what! I wanted Sydney, Australia. That's where I was supposed to be spending my summer. When I stared at the seat ahead of me instead of looking out the window, Angelina said, "I don't get the sullen face. Your father and I went to extraordinary effort so you could have a summer with him and his family. I thought Lucy had been upgraded from unwanted stepsister to your best friend. Last summer you couldn't wait to be on the plane to spend summer vacation with her." Last summer Lucy and my other family lived in Sydney. Last summer was winter in Sydney, but in that upside-down world, my other family -- my other life -- worked great, with no need for a location change. Sydney was where Jack, my dad, had that elusive thing called a "stable marriage" with Lucy's mom, Penny, who I didn't like at first on account of her kidnapping my dad across the world and all, but now I like her fine. She is totally in love with my dad and I have to respect Penny's good taste. I just would have likCohn, Rachel is the author of 'Two Steps Forward', published 2006 under ISBN 9780689866142 and ISBN 0689866143.