Avery Turner, a perfectionist with a double life, and Kyran Drake, a charismatic boy with secrets, find their fates intertwined when their secrets threaten to unravel their dreams-will they overcome their differences to protect their futures, or wil...
"There's a huge difference between you and your sister," my mother recalled that Friday afternoon where we were watching the television as a family, and there were no arguments or mood-swings to cause an uproar.
My eyes were glued to the screen as I waited to find out her reasoning behind why she liked Eliza more. "You care about everyone else more than us. Your family. Your sister isn't like that. She cares about me and you, and you don't even like her."
I sighed inwardly, avoiding eye contact with her as I took a sip of the juice that was next to me. Eliza was on the other side of the room, straightening every piece of furniture in the room.
"Eliza, get back here and sit down. Watch with us," my mom called out as Eliza ripped open the pack of wipes and started wiping down the already clean table.
"No, I have to do this first."
I watched as my sister kept angling the furniture next to the living room, her eyes concentrated on the task at hand. I was convinced this wasn't normal behavior. I knew deep inside that there was something wrong, something in my sister's life that I never understood. Although she was my mom's favorite, there were parts of her that we didn't understand.
My mom didn't take it well when I mentioned that.
I grew up knowing and understanding that everyone had problems. For someone living with such broken pieces, there was no way I could sugarcoat others' struggles. But I could hate them for hurting me. I will always hate them for never trusting me.
If you hurt me once, I'd never forget it.
Every time that I was compared to another kid, or treated differently, I'd feel like something was digging into my heart. Or somewhere in my chest. It'd be like I couldn't breathe because my airway was disconnected and malfunctioning.
I didn't have to know that my mom thought that every single person in this entire world is better than me.
But, what other opinion did I have to believe in?
Maybe she was right. Maybe I could be better. Maybe this was all my fault.
It hurt.
It hurt and I couldn't tell anyone. It really fucking hurt.
"Eliza, that's enough," my mom said, gesturing to the middle of the couch that was usually Eliza's seat. My mom didn't really like sitting next to me, unless she was mad at Eliza. Which says a lot.
I watched as Eliza washed her hands and grabbed the popcorn bowl on the table, sitting in between me and mom.
"Mom, why doesn't Avery sit beside you?" Eliza asked innocently, and I wanted to glare or even punch her with my eyes. What a shame...
