Asher King's life has revolved around putting up an involuntary mask to hide his true self. With successful parents boasting about his 'pretend' success, Asher feels as though the life he is living was never his to begin with, and a home of happines...
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"What is it?" I hear my mother's muffled words from behind her office door.
"Um...I-I needed to talk to you and Father about something," I say nervously, fiddling with my hands outside the door.
After a few seconds, a deep voice replies, "Come in."
I take a deep breath and slowly open the door.
As usual, my parent's home office is dimly lit, accenting the brown walls surrounding it. My mother and father each have their own desk pushed to opposite corners and in the middle of the room is a long meeting table piled with papers. The room is minimalistic as always.
I could never work here. It's just so dull.
"Quit taking all day, Son," my father scolds and turns in his desk chair to face me. "We have work to do. What do you want?"
"W-Well, um...thi–"
"Stop stuttering and speak like a man," Father orders.
"Yes, sir." I bow in apology. "I was wondering if you could sign this permission slip for me. The school is hosting a fun weekend trip for juniors and I want to go."
My father reaches out to grab the paper and starts looking over it.
I originally wasn't going to go on the trip because I didn't think I would have anyone to enjoy it with. That is until Leo and his friends invited me. They were looking for a fifth roommate to share their hotel with since every room had to be full, and Leo begged me to go with them. When all of the guys gave me puppy-dog eyes, there was no way that I could resist.
Most people would think it's weird that the school is hosting a weekend trip to the beach, but Greenville High always tries to make the school an interactive environment. I wasn't a fan of this for the longest time, but since I've met the football guys, I've come to appreciate the school's little things to try and bring us all together.
"Hmm," my father ponders as he is still scanning over the permission slip. "Is this a joke?"
"No, sir," I whisper.
"Speak up!" my father snaps, and I flinch.
"No, sir," I repeat, this time with more confidence.
"Your mother and I already told you what the deal is," he snarls and stands up to tower over me. "We told you that it was time to get serious. You don't have any more time for this foolishness," he spits, holding up the permission slip in my face. "How dare you come into my office and ask about this when you know damn well that you should be preparing for your future."
My father steps closer and I back up, feeling my lower back hit the edge of the meeting table. I feel cornered and there is nothing I can do about it until my father calms down.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man?" Father threatens.
I stare at him, wide-eyed and heart-pounding, too overwhelmed to say anything.
