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Holidays Circa 2014

On My Way to You exclusive

Thirteen-year-old boys should like thirteen-year-old girls.

That's how Emery thought the world worked, or so the TV and his Uncle Tyler tell him. Boys are supposed to kiss girls. Boys are supposed to ask girls to prom. Boys are supposed to have girlfriends. Girls are supposed to have boyfriends. Boys are for girls and girls are for boys. He's never seen anything otherwise, and he'd always thought that was how things were supposed to be.

Boys aren't supposed to stare at other boys' hair and think about what it would feel like to touch them.

Emery's musings were cut short as he steered clear of a group of students coming his way. Pushed, might be a better term. He recognized them, his classmates, laughing about probably something stupid, not that the stupid heads had ever let him in on anything going on in their stupid lives. Some were either dragging and dropping Christmas decorations at the gym on the account of a Holidays event the school was set up for, even the popular ones, or preoccupied with entirely something else, especially the popular ones.

Whichever it was, Emery couldn't bother himself to find out. If they couldn't even be bothered to ask his name, why on earth would he care about what his classmates were up to?

Except he's lying to himself. It was his first year of high school. It's not like it were the first week where practically nobody knew who anyone is. They were three days away from Christmas for God's sake.

But then again, Emery is often plagued with the thought that maybe he was the problem. Maybe he could exert more effort into making friends. He's tried. Countless times, to no avail. Perhaps sixth grade being the worst year of his life had already been carved in stone, so maybe he'll just try again. Next year. Or the year after that.

Whatever. Besides, he's rather occupied with something else.

"Hey, Cameron! We need the ladder over here!"

For Emery, approaching puberty without any friends is not so bad compared to mustering up the courage to approach a tall, amazing, and devastatingly handsome rich-but-never-flaunts-it golden boy. If anyone was good-looking enough to play Bradley Cooper's son, it's Cameron Brooks. The class prince, the silent heartstopper, the one person in this school Emery couldn't bring himself to hate for not knowing his existence.

He is pretty. He didn't know if he should say it out loud, but his mom taught him to be honest with himself, so Emery has been repeating those words in his head, over and over since he stepped foot inside the gym.

Emery kind of always felt something was different about him. He never really fit in with the boys in his class. He didn't like what they like and the things they hated didn't seem so bad to him. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, Cameron Brooks was conveniently there, first in his line of sight.

The first time he heard what it was like to be gay was when he was helping his dad clean the front yard. Their new neighbor, Mr. Walsh, was walking his dog and happened to pass by them as Emery was trying to pull a weed out of his little hands. He was ten. He was curious, just like other boys his age.

"Daddy? Where is Mr. Walsh's wife?"

His dad looked at him, and he was quiet. Emery was horrified. Did he say something wrong?

He let out a big sigh when his dad spoke. "He does not have one," he said. "He has husband."

"A husband?" Emery wondered. "How?"

His father knelt down to pull the weed Emery has been struggling with for the past half hour, tossing it to the bin beside them like it was nothing. Emery watched his father with awe. He wished he could be strong like him. "Wedding," Michael answered plainly.