Now, let me introduce you to the main people involved in this saga:
My name is Mia. I’m a 16-year-old girl living in a typical suburban house with my dad and my stepmom, Trudy. Trudy has been part of my life for the past two years, and let me tell you, she has perfected the whole “evil stepmother” routine to a T.
Living with her has felt like being trapped in a bad reality TV show, but without any cameras, no crew, and certainly no paycheck to make up for the trouble.
My dad mostly stays out of the way as much as possible. He’s the kind of guy who lives by the motto, “happy wife, happy life.” Except the catch here is that Trudy’s rarely ever happy. She’s one of those people who thinks the whole world owes her something and should cater to her every wish.
This was her big 45th birthday bash, and Trudy was clinging to her youth in every way possible. The entire week before the party, she was parading around the house as if she were royalty.
“You’d better get me something special this year, Mia,” she declared one morning as I was in the kitchen chopping fruit for my smoothie. “A dishwasher would be nice. After all, I’ve done a lot for you.”
“Uh, Trudy,” I said while adding yogurt to the blender, “I’m actually saving up for my prom dress.”
Even as the words left my mouth, I already knew where this was headed.
“Your prom dress?” she scoffed. “Mia, that’s ridiculous! You can just pick up something from one of those cheap stores. A dishwasher is much more practical. I don’t want to hear any more excuses.”
Excuses? I couldn’t believe it. This woman seriously expected me to drain all my savings for an appliance just because she thought she “deserved” it. Where’s my fairy godmother when I need her?
“Mia can only babysit kids on this street,” Trudy had told my dad at dinner one night. “It’s safer that way, and she won’t need to go far from home. Besides, she doesn’t need that much money.”
So, all the money I’d saved for my prom dress? It came from the babysitting jobs I picked up over the last year.
So, fast forward to Trudy’s big day. The house was buzzing with caterers, an event planner was darting around with a clipboard, and there were enough flowers to make the place look like a botanical garden.
And me? I was quietly working in the background—polishing mirrors, setting up the drink stations, and doing my best to avoid eye contact with anyone.
I finished setting up the gin station and made a break for my room, hoping I could clean myself up before Trudy’s entourage started arriving.
Once the guests showed up, Trudy morphed into a celebrity version of herself. She floated around, flashing fake smiles, soaking in compliments like she was some kind of A-lister at a red carpet event.
Of course, I couldn’t refuse. Not with all those people around. Saying no to Trudy would probably cause her to explode.
So, I did what I was told, floating around the party like some invisible Cinderella. I kept checking the clock, counting down the minutes until it was time to blow out the candles and the day would finally come to an end.
“Hiding out, huh, kiddo?” my dad said, chuckling when he found me enjoying a generous helping of lobster mac and cheese.
“I’m starving, Dad,” I replied, shoveling another forkful into my mouth. “Besides, everyone else is eating, too.”
Before long, it was time for the big cake reveal. My dad lit the candles while Trudy danced around like a Cheshire cat, clearly soaking up the attention.
Everyone belted out “Happy Birthday” as loud as they could, and Trudy blew out the candles with a dramatic flair. But as the party started to wind down, she tapped her wine glass with a fork and gave me one of her infamous looks.
I stood there, stunned for a moment. The room fell completely silent. It felt like every single pair of eyes was on me, watching as if I were the bad guy here.
She had actually said it. Out loud. In front of all her friends.
I felt a lump forming in my throat, but I managed to keep my voice calm and steady.
“Trudy, I told you, I didn’t have enough money for a dishwasher. I’ve been saving for my prom.”
“Just wash the dishes, Mia,” she said. “Do something useful for once.”
I could have lost it right then. But instead, I swallowed my pride and nodded my head.
I spent the next hour up to my elbows in suds, scrubbing away until my fingers were sore and numb. I felt like crying, but instead, I scrubbed even harder, imagining the day I’d finally break free from this nightmare of a life.
By the time I was done, the party had ended, and Trudy’s friends were long gone. I dragged myself upstairs to bed, completely drained, both emotionally and physically.
But when I made my way into the kitchen, I found her standing in the middle of a total disaster.
The entire kitchen was a mess.
“Mia!” she yelled as soon as she spotted me. “Look at what happened!”
Still groggy from sleep, I blinked in confusion, trying to process what I was seeing.
“The pipes!” she wailed, throwing her arms in the air. “My entire kitchen is ruined! This is going to cost a fortune to fix!”
“But everything was fine last night when I went to bed. What happened here?”
“Trudy, did you really pour all the meat grease down the sink last night?” he asked.
“I did!” she admitted. “I didn’t know where else to put it, and the caterers didn’t take it with them. But I used some drain cleaner afterward.”
I had to stop myself from laughing. I know I shouldn’t have, but come on—after everything? It really felt like the universe had finally stepped in to teach her a lesson.
As she continued to freak out, I felt a small, satisfied smile creeping onto my face. But I kept quiet and didn’t say a word.
“But not for Mia,” he said. “I’m giving her $500 for her prom dress.”
“You can’t be serious, David!” Trudy snapped. “You expect me to pay for the new kitchen tiles, but you’re just going to spoil Mia?”
And that was the moment Trudy learned not to push too hard when it came to my dad. But she did try to be a little more pleasant after that.
“I’ll come with you when you go shopping for your prom dress, Mia,” she offered.
Do you think her new attitude will last?
If you were in my shoes, what would you have done?
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
