Their Secret Son [UNDER RECONSTRUCTION]

Introduction.

***

Notice: 8th July 2019. 

Attention, ladies and gentlemen. I wish to begin by thanking you all very much for bearing with me. I started this book all the way back in 2014 when I was still in high school - for those of you out there also from the United Kingdom, I was studying for my highers when I decided that the best way to procrastinate was to start writing a book. Madness, I know. But here we are, five whole years later and still no complete book. 

I could give you a billion and one excuses for why I haven't finished it, such as I needed to focus on my actual social life, as well as getting into University, and then actually getting a degree (which I successfully managed to do btw, whoop whoop), but none of these excuses really matter to you, lovely internet people. 

As the last four years of my life came to a close, I rediscovered my love for writing, and thus I have decided to pick this book up again. As of writing this message, a whole 18,500 of you have read this which frankly is utterly bonkers to me. Looking back, I can see so many grammatical errors and spelling mistakes that it kills me a little inside; each chapter is short yet somehow repetitive, proving to me that this book does not deserve the attention that it once received. 

However, as the title and new cover suggest, this book is currently undergoing reconstruction. I still have all my notes and ideas for future chapters saved onto my drive, but I don't feel that I can move forward without fixing my mistakes from my past. Consequently, I will be unpublishing and then republishing revised versions of each chapter, adding content, fixing mistakes, and setting this story up to be the book I always wanted it to be. I hope you will all bear with me on this journey - I know I haven't always been the most reliable, but I'm trying to prove myself worthy. 

I hope you all stick around and enjoy the improvements I make. If not, then I thank you for taking the time to at least read this message. 

Yours faithfully,

Lizzie 

***

Sweet heavens.   

"Josh! Josh, I need a mop, can you help me, please? For once in your life could you make yourself useful?" Lydia shrieked, wiping her flour-covered hand over her brow. She had exactly 2 hours and 37 minutes before the picnic, and her cupcake mixture was now decorating her floor, along with the glass shards of her best mixing bowl. "Josh!"  

"What?" A teenager appeared through the door, rubbing his face to wake himself. He looked at the worried, pleading face of his mother before he looked at the floor. "Oh for the love of-"  

"JOSH." his mother shrieked again. All signs of worry and begging had gone from her face, and it was now set with her plucked brows knitted together. He backed away to the cupboard, his hands raised in defeat. His mother always got what she wanted, and did as she pleased.  

The head of the Fiorell Debutante society would have her way, whether by force or manipulation. She was the perfect housewife and classic all-American mother. Her blonde hair was curled and sprayed into position, her eyebrows shaped in perfects arcs and her signature red lipstick never smudged or faded. She wore respectable dresses -knee length of course- and could often be seen with a floral apron tied in a neat bow on her back. To those around her, she seemed calm, organised, and well mannered. She cooked and cleaned, and in her spare time (of which she had plenty) headed many committees in the community, and was strict in terms of tradition. A woman's' place was by her husband's side, and she must always look presentable and happy, despite her mood.  

Her husband, James, was much the same; 'perfect'. He wore tailored suits, 'casual clothes' for the country club, and combed his hair back so that it was always slick and shiny. He was a charmer, but a strict masochist. Like his wife, he believed that a woman's' place was by his side, and was there for the sole purpose of maintaining the house, cooking, and to make him look good. Jim was deputy mayor of Fiorell, and so the perfect image was everything.  

This was also the motto of their youngest child, Christine. She was 16 and believed the world worshipped the ground she walked on. Only a sophomore, having practically just started Fiorell Academy, she was already running it along with her minions. Head Cheerleader, Head of the student body, and well on her way to becoming homecoming queen. A natural blonde like her mother, she had the same style and grace, but way more devious. She easily fit into the perfect, always presentable image with her parents, unlike Josh.  

Josh was different; he always had been. When his father tried to teach him American football, he would play in a pale pink shirt. When his parents left the house, he put on make-up and dresses. When his streets' craft competition took place, he built a house for his sister's Barbie dolls (with a retractable pool cover). To put it straight -no pun intended- Josh was gay. He enjoyed the more feminine things in life, and although he too cared about his image, he never believed in conforming to the cookie-cutter, nuclear family ideals of his parents. This would have been fine if he was born into any other family but unfortunately Josh was born a Highgate; the Fiorell elite. So while his family went to picnics and dinner parties, balls and fundraisers, Josh was condemned to his room. 'You don't belong at this event' his father would always say, along with 'I already have a daughter, I don't need a pathetic excuse for one'. The Highgates hid Josh away and had him homeschooled. In truth, no one outside the family knew he existed.  

There was no place for a fag in Fiorell.