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.

"It's..." I read the sender's name, "Not from them."

Abby released an exasperated breath, "What!"

"It's not from the contest," I said, reading over the name once more. "It's... from Diane."

"Miss Fancy Pants?"

I nodded, staying silent as I quickly read over the email.

"Oh... she wants to buy another art piece. Well, not her. A colleague of hers," the disappointment was beginning to diminish, "They saw my painting at her office."

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Dylan!" Abby exclaimed, "That's amazing!"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Come on! Why are you not more excited?"

"I am, trust me, I am." I could tell my tone was providing no help to sound confident. "For a second I just thought it was going to be that email."

Abby gave a sympathetic look, placing her hand on top of mine, "I know. But, there's still time. And if they don't want you, that's their loss. Clearly Miss Fancy –"

"Diane."

"Clearly Diane sees your talent. She's even getting her rich friends to see it too!"

I nodded, knowing her words were correct. Something good happened tonight, regardless of whether that included the results from the competition.

"I know, Abs, I know." I chewed my bottom lip. "Getting another cheque would definitely help things, even if it's a fifth of what I got last time."

"How much did Fancy Pants even give you?"

"Enough for us to finally go on our trip."

Abby's jaw dropped, "Shut. Up."

"I'm not kidding."

Abby jumped to her feet, pulling me up with her. "Pickle!" She excitedly yelled, "You didn't tell me that!"

"Well, I've barely seen you since that meeting! You've been at your parents' house for the past few weeks!"

"We have to celebrate!"

Abby quickly ran to her bag and pulled out a bottle of champagne. "I was going to save this – but, fuck it! Turn on some music and let's pop this thing because... WE'RE GOING TO PARIS!"

The small space of my apartment filled with blasting music. Abby and I danced, drank, and laughed the rest of the night away. It was what I needed. I wasn't sure what I would do without Abby in my life. She was the friend who was there for a shoulder to cry on but was also not afraid to hold back and call me out of my bullshit. She knew how much art meant to me and supported me on my journey but knew never to push too far.

No matter what would come from this night, at least I could say that I was finally living for myself and towards my dream. And, I had the most amazing best friend by my side to do it with.

Now, the two of us were going to travel to a place I never got to visit.

Everything was going to be okay, with or without a letter of acceptance for The Divine Art Show.

The sunlight peeking through my blinds caused me to let out a loud groan. I squinted through my heavy eyelids. "What time is it?"

"Eight. Way too fucking early," Abby's voice mumbled from somewhere in the room.

Slowly opening my eyes, I looked around at where the two of us were.

"Why are we on the floor?" I asked myself out loud, sitting up. "I have a bed."

Abby rubbed her eyes, "I think we thought camping in your living room would be a good idea." She turned her head, looking at the blanket laid across the coffee table, "I guess our tent collapsed."

"How much did we drink?"

"I don't remember anything after we pulled out the tequila."

My eyes widened, "I don't even remember drinking tequila."

"It was after our Spice Girls performance."

I let out a sigh, lying back down on the hardwood floor. "Well, I guess this officially means I am not a finalist."

"Whatever. They are fucking stupid for not picking you. When the next art contest comes around, you know, that's bigger and much fucking better, the stupid Divine people are going to be kicking themselves. What kind of name is Divine anyways."

I smiled, hearing her rant. Even when in a severely hungover state, Abby always knew what to say to make me feel better.

I turned my head to the side. "At least we still have Paris."

"Oh my god! Paris!" She sat up, appearing to regret the quickness in her decision as she pressed her hand to her forehead, "Paris," she repeated, "Great food, beautiful art, hot guys."

"Don't forget about Jake. You know, that loving guy who adores you and loves you unconditionally?"

Abby rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but I can still look. Besides, I'll be looking for you. I'm just doing my duties as a best friend."

I couldn't argue with that logic.

"We need to start planning. Now! Where's your laptop?"

"I think it's in the kitchen."

Abby slowly got to her feet, "I can do this," she whispered to herself, "I will not throw up."

I grinned to myself, hearing her words of self-encouragement. Slowly sitting up, I noticed my phone on the ground. "Could you pass me the phone charger?" I asked, looking down at the black screen on my device.

With the cord aimlessly thrown in my direction, I plugged in my phone, patiently waiting for it to power on.

Abby stood in the kitchen, mumbling to herself as she typed away on the laptop. "Uh, Pickle?"

"Yeah?" I called back as my eyes focused on the small screen in front of me.

10 Missed Calls: Mother

2 Missed Calls: Dad

3 New Voicemails: Mother

5 New Messages

"You got in."

I looked over at Abby, "Got in what?"

"The Divine Art Show!" Abby exclaimed, running over with the laptop in hand, "You got accepted! I guess the email came in late or something!"

"I... what?"

"Look!" She exclaimed, pointing to the email.

"Dear Ms. Miller," I began to read out loud, "We wanted to congratulate you on being accepted as a finalist for The Divine Art Show." I paused, "Oh my god."

"I knew these people were smart, Pickle!"

I could feel my heart begin to race, reading over the email to ensure I did not mistake their words. It was hard to believe what was there was true. The sweat in the palm of my hands began to pool. This meant one thing: I had to confess everything to my parents.

"Do you need to count?" Abby's voice softly asked.

I shook my head. "No, I'm alright." The quiver in my voice made my words sound unconvincing. "I just can't believe it."

The sounds of my phone vibrating against the wood floor pulled me out of my shocked state. The name that flashed on the caller ID caused all the happiness inside to vanish.

"Speak of the devil," I mumbled to myself. Answering the call, I placed my phone to my ear. "Hello, mother."

"DylanSabrina Miller," she said with a voice filled with anger, "What on earth have you done."

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UH OH... what do you think Mrs. Miller is upset about? 

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