18 ✓

FIFTEEN

The days passed with heavy anticipation. Letters of acceptance for the finalists of The Divine Art Show would be sent by the end of the day on January 18th, and I had spent more time refreshing my email than anything else. With every day that passed, I continued to worry that I had not been selected.

Those days only became a further struggle when I had spent it at my parents' house for Christmas. The façade each of us put on to be in the same room was growing thin. Each of us seemed to pick one topic of conversation. My mother chose her garden, my father focused on his favourite sports team, and I, of course, continued to pretend that I was enrolled in school. There were many times I wanted to scream the truth, but I had made a promise to myself.

If I were to be selected as a finalist, I would confess everything to my parents.

Thousands applied and only a hundred got in. If I did get accepted, that would prove my talents were real. And if I didn't, then maybe it did mean that art was just a hobby. My chances of being accepted were low. Maybe I had set this new rule as a scapegoat. Deep down, I knew confessing about lying for the last year would be one of the hardest things I would have to do.

If there was one thing the Miller family hated most of all, it was a disappointment.

When New Year's Eve came, I stuck to my promise and stayed in. Of course, that decision was met by a disapproving Abby. It was an over-rated night, anyways. I wanted to start this new year off with my best foot forward.

And so far, this new year wasn't starting off as well as I had originally imagined.

"So... how much longer do we have?"

I glanced at the clock on my laptop, "Under an hour."

"Have you checked your junk mail? Sometimes important stuff ends up there."

I sighed, "Yes, Abby. I've checked my junk mail."

Abby rose from her spot on the couch, "Alright, you need a drink," she said as she hurried towards the kitchen.

"Abs, I said I don't –"

"Yes, I know. You don't want to rely on alcohol to get rid of your nerves," Abby mocked, "But either way, we will be drinking at the end of the hour. Whether that's because we will be celebrating..." She returned to her spot with a bottle and two shot glasses, "Or, the other thing. Which I totally don't think will happen. But, just in case."

"Fine," I nodded, "At this point, I think I should just accept that I haven't been picked."

"Excuse me, Dylan Miller! What was our one rule that we agreed on for tonight?"

"Positive thoughts..." I begrudgingly whispered.

Abby leaned closer, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

I rolled my eyes, "Positive thoughts."

"Okay, now try it with some actual positivity."

I forced a painful smile, picking up the shot glass, "Positive thoughts!"

"That's my girl," Abby clinked our glasses together.

Raising the glass to my lips, I quickly knocked by the vile liquid. The burn running down the back of my throat caused my nose to scrunch from its horrible taste.

"Okay, I'll admit it," I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, "That helped a bit."

Ding.

The sound from my laptop caused my heart to drop into my stomach. The moment of truth. I quickly glanced at Abby, before looking at the machine in from of me. I held my breath as I moved the cursor to my inbox, clicking on the new notification.