For Everette

The Meeting ~ Chapter 1

((The first two chapters will be told through Everette's POV))

I stumble through my dirty, broken room. Walls busted in and the floor creaking awfully loud, I manage to make my way downstairs to get some food. I open the small refrigerator and tap my chin, looking for something to make. I'm quite a poor boy, never having enough food for the entire family. 

I live with my mother, father, my younger sister, and my two eldest brothers. Our town was never the place to raise a family of 6, but this house was all we could afford. My mother, Janelle Harrison Ghonstok, used to be a rich woman. Wavy blonde hair that was always tied up in a bun, always in her signature short black skirt and tucked in white button-up. That was my mother for you, a woman that looked like she owned the place. As a matter of fact, she did. My father, Jonathan Jackyl Ghonstok, was always at work in the small herb shop he owned. This made my mother head of household, even though when she wasn't around and my brothers were being rotten brats, I was more of a management for the house than anyone else.

I'm Everette Jackson Ghonstok. Son of Jonathan and Janelle Ghonstok, sadly. I don't mean that in a harsh way, though. My parents are good parents, don't get me wrong. They just...don't know how to manage a household. 

My older brothers came down the stairs, bickering at each other. It was mumbles, so I couldn't make out what they said, but when they reached the kitchen... They went silent.

"Err... Heya, squirt." Jack, the eldest brother said. He was 18 and was saving up for college. He was more responsible than Ethan, the younger of the two. Ethan was 17 and reckless. He played on the horrible school football team, and surprisingly was the only good quarterback. When the team listened to Ethan instead of the coach, they usually won games. That was pretty much all Ethan was good for. Football and being a jerk. 

Ethan walked over and ruffled my dark brown hair and looked inside the fridge. 
"Well. Looks like little rookie over here should go shopping." Ethan said, speaking towards Jack. Jack only chuckled and walked away to the bathroom. I looked up at Ethan and narrowed my eyes.

"And why do I have to go to the market? It's a Sunday anyways, there won't be much. They don't restock till tomorrow." I objected against the thought of leaving the house. 

See, the first Sunday on each month, an important person from Los Angeles or some other big city comes to our small town and plucks a person up to either be a slave or be an assistant to some big shot makeup designer or artist or musician of some sort. Our town is so small, it's not even on the maps. I'd tell you where it is, but I don't wish to let some terrorist know where we are and bomb us.

Anyways, this year, there aren't that many talented people in our town. So, whoever is plucked out is most likely going to be a servant of some sort. Besides being a servant, the person that is chosen is usually married to a rich person they meet. Here's where it's my problem.

I'm short. 5'2 exactly. I've got dark brown hair and deep green eyes. Freckles are scattered across my face and my nose and cheeks are always red. I'm very pale and skinny, so that's another thing too. I'm not attractive to most people, or that's what my eldest brothers say.

Ethan is a dirty blonde, 6 feet tall, football star jerk. He's got the prettiest blue eyes though, I'll say that. Jack however... Jack is 6'1, a dark brown fella too. He's got hazel eyes, adapted from our grandmother. He's got the most charming smile and the sharpest jaw in the universe. He could cut someone with it, if i'm being honest. 

My brothers are attractive in every way, even if one of them is a jerk and the other one is too caught up in college applications to pay attention. They still get women coming after them left and right.

But, I don't like women. It's not an issue to me. To no surprise, I'm gay. What? You are surprised? You shouldn't be.

Anyways, yes, I like men. I have since I was younger, a little 10 year old boy. When I was 10, I had a crush on this kid in my class named Fredrick. Later, I found out that he was a jerk too. He slammed one of my best friend's trays into the floor at lunch, and then it just so happened that my fist slammed into his face.

I haven't been to a school since.

I'm home-schooled.

To sum it up, I'm a edgy gay 16 year old that's home-schooled for punching a kid who attacked my best friend.

It's cliche, I know. But, it's my life. It's how my story goes. Unfortunate, poor old me. 

I sighed and picked my bag up, slinging it over my shoulders. Ethan grabbed the small shopping list off the fridge and placed it in my hand. "Here, hold on." He dug into his back pocket and pulled out at least 20 dollars, not counting the little pennies and dimes. He handed the money to me and I shoved it in my pocket, along with the list. 

"Fine. I'll be back in an hour or so. Make sure Anna gets to the daycare safely, please. And try to clean up around this place." I spoke sternly, watching Ethan nod quickly. I smirked and slid on my boots, walking out of the house. I pace quickly to the small store in our town, the bell jingling as I arrived inside. It was freezing, yet all the frozen food looked melted. I shivered and looked at the list, walking around the small food shop for items and supplies we need at home. 

Then, another customer comes in. Or, I thought it was a customer. I ignored it for a split moment until I heard a chuckle, followed by a strange sentence. 

"Just find one. I don't care who it is, I need someone for the task." The voice was British, a tiny pinch of Russian too. I peered over the isle to see a tall blonde man with a golden vest, just like mine. He was wearing pointed black heels and jean shorts. He twirled a small blue and gold writing pen in his fingers, his back arched up. As he turned around, my heart jolted.

He wasn't only gorgeous, oh no.

He was the designer coming to our town this year. 

Enoch Satten.