Sixteen-year-old Zoe Scott has everything from money to popularity, and even dating options. However, she has a big secret: she isn't into any of those options. But it's okay! She's comfortable living a lie. But when she meets Gia, the art outcast...
I used to be so sure of myself- so proud. Until that one Christmas Eve. I was almost ten years old, and excited to see my relatives for our annual Christmas Eve party. "Hey, squirt!" My older cousin Jonathan ruffled my hair as he walked through the door with my aunt and uncle, covered in fluffy snowflakes. "Ugh, why do you feel the need to call me that? I'm basically ten years old." He chuckled, "Because, I simply love irritating you." I scowled as he moved on to greet my parents when my uncle came up to me. "Hey, Zo!!!" He exclaimed as he high-fived me. "Hey, Uncle Alfred." I replied wearily. There was always something about him that I could never quite put my finger on, until that night. My aunt came in after him, slipping a package into my hand. I parted my lips to ask what it was, but she gestured for me to open it. I peeled back the wrapping paper just enough to see that a book sat inside the brown paper packaging. "Oh my gosh, The Land of Stories?! I've been wanting this one for FOREVER! Thank you so much, Aunt Celia!!!" I squealed excitedly. "You're very welcome, Zoe! Just don't let your uncle see it. I doubt he would approve of the fact that the author plays for the other team, if you get what I mean..." Aunt Celia replied with a wink. "...Yeah, o-of course." I stammered. I didn't understand what the issue was. Why couldn't people just love who they love without being ridiculed for it?
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"I'd say it's about time we kept up the old Scott family tradition by watching Home Alone!" Uncle Alfred said to everyone after we had finished playing a game of charades. "Oh my goodness, yes!!! I'll get the DVD player set up!" I exclaimed, racing to our 'entertainment shelf'. Once I had the DVD in the player, I scurried back towards the couch and curled up with my parents. "I'm just gonna grab a root beer from the fridge, okay? I'll be right back." Jonathan told us about halfway through the movie. "Okay, but hurry! We're almost at the best part!" I replied. As Jonathan disappeared into the kitchen, his phone chimed. When the screen flashed on, Uncle Alfred snuck a peek at it and muttered something I am still unaware of, but it must have been something along the lines of, "Who is that?". My uncle then proceeded to grab Jonathan's phone and open the notification. I could see the colour rising to Uncle Alfred's cheeks just as Jonathan returned holding a bottle of Bang's root beer. He stopped in his tracks, gaze stopping on his phone in Uncle Alfred's hands. "Who is Liam, and why have you been exchanging shirtless pictures with him?" My uncle asked sternly. "Dad, I can explain! It's not what it looks li-" "Oh, I think it's exactly what it looks like! How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been one of those?" My uncle said as he stood up, voice raised. "Uncle Alfred, what's going on?" I had cried, attempting to break free from my parents' grip. "Your cousin's a faggot, that's what!!!" He raged, flipping over the coffee table, shattering our dishes in the process. "Get out of this house, NOW!!! And don't even think about ever coming back!" Jonathan stumbled over the broken coffee table and shattered dishes as he made his way to the door. "Jonathan, wait! We can fix this!" I exclaimed, breaking free from my parents' grasp and chasing after him. But it was too late. As he was halfway through the open doorway, he turned around and said, "No, we can't, Zoe. No one here accepts me for who I am, so it would be better for everyone if I just... left." With tears in his eyes, he continued through the door, shutting it softly. Everyone and everything was silent for about two minutes until my uncle yelled, throwing our beautiful pottery vase to the floor, fracturing it into tiny pieces all over the carpet. My mother dragged me to my bedroom, tears streaming down my face. She tucked me into bed, my clothes still on, and said timidly, "Your uncle means well. He really does. Sometimes he can just be a little... aggressive." "But Jonathan didn't do anything wrong! He didn't, mom! He didn't!" I replied through tears. "Get some sleep, okay honey?" Without another word, my mom exited the room, shutting the door behind her. After about five minutes of crying, I got up and walked over to my desk, where I had put the gift from my aunt. I took the book out of the packaging and opened my closet. I took down my secret box from the top shelf, and slipped the book inside. If I ever turned out to be... like my cousin... no one could ever come close to finding out. Ever.
