Mr President's son -BoyXBoy- *ACTIVELY EDITING*

Chapter three*

It was three days later when one of the cooks approached me. I'd been lounging on one of the random chair in the house, a book about American history in my hand. I still had to study for school, though they were rather lenient. I'd been flipping through, chewing on the end of my pencil when he cleared his throat. I look up, taking the pencil out of my mouth. "Yes, sir?", I ask, frowning. This never happened. I hadn't even seen this man follow me before.

He looked frazzled, which instantly made me frazzled. "You're, uh, seventeen, right? Sixteen? Something like that?" He asks, a Russian accent seeping into his voice. I nod slightly, still confused. "What do you like to eat? It's just, I'm not from here. And I certainly haven't ever served children before! Simply just children, I mean. I serve you every meal. But your father chooses that". He was rambling, which made a grin creep onto my lips.

     "What's your name?", I ask, closing my book. "They're coming here for the experience of the White House, right? So serve them what you're known for. Why you're the chef", I wink, causing him to smile.

      "Deacon, my apologies. I've been pondering over this since your father announced it to us, which was months ago", he sighs. This hits me. My father had had this planned for months but decided to tell me only the week before. "You really think they'd enjoy whatever I'm known for?". I nod and he's silent for a moment, dwelling on it. "Alright. Alright, I'll do it. Thanks, kid. Looks like your dad was wrong about you". He walks away with this, leaving me with my mouth agape. Wrong about me? Not only does my father hate that I'm gay, he genuinely finds me to be a terrible person.

Did that mean he was desperate? He had to be, considering he was leaving me in charge of spreading his message. Or maybe it's an ultimatum. Whatever it was, I could do it.

I wasn't worried, really. Of course I felt social anxiety creeping in me like it was the first day of school, but I also knew the risks. I knew the things I could lose, and the things that could happen to me. People were put to death every single day, just for being gay. I wasn't any better than them. My father knew that I knew that, but this is his way of making it clear. By dangling the bait in front of my face.

      "Children coming around Christmas time?", I hear a screeching voice demand. "It's ridiculous! They're going to wreck the decor, or, or rip the lights down! It's a terrible decision. A terrible idea!". The voice belonged to a large blonde woman in a suit, clutching a binder in her arms. I knew her well. Her name was Melanie, my fathers chief of staff. "Oh, hello Ty", she says brightly. "I was actually just coming to look for you. Where would you wanna talk?".

     "Talk?", I ask, groaning on the inside. I didn't think I'd ever wish for everyone to go back to ignoring me, but I was getting close. "Why do you want to talk to me?". I expected her bright expression to fall, but it didn't. These people hated being questioned.

  "Maybe because you're a respectable member of the first family, huh?", she teases, gently nudging me. She starts walking and I know I have no choice but to follow her. She goes into the treaty room and takes a seat on one of the comfortable chairs, letting out a breath. "So! Sit. Let's talk", she smiles.

I sit and she sorts through her files, humming to herself. "Okay! So! When these children ask what you're into, whatcha think you'll say?", she asks, her smile soft and her voice kind. But I knew what this was. An interrogation. A peek into my brain. She notices me roll my eyes and she chuckles. "I know what you're thinking, but I just want to be sure you're ready for this event, Ty! That's all".

      She was practically begging, so I give in. "Uh, video games. I like Skyrim and Sims. Stuff like that. Ways to get out of my head", I begin. She holds up a hand to stop me.

     "Don't say that. That implies that you don't like your life and you want to get away", she says, her eyebrow raising. "Imagine that coming from the son of the president, Ty. Just say, you like video games. And music, right? The groundskeeper find it hilarious when you try to hide your MP3 player. You know how much security our packages go through?".

I roll my eyes again. I was desperate for music other than the lame stations I could rarely find. I figured if I bought one online, they'd find it to be completely harmless. I didn't expect them to tell my father, but I know now they did. "Okay. I'll say music and video games. And if they ask me about certain games? What if I like them, can I discuss?".

She shakes her head, handing me a paper. "No friendship" was the first thing that caught my eye. "You're not there to make friends. You don't need to bond. Just answer them enough to where they get an idea of who you are. You don't need to know who they are, okay?". Her smile returns and I sigh. Her Apple Watch dings and she looks at it, frowning. "Oh, I have to go. Study your rules. If you have any questions, don't. No negotiations". She winks before rushing out of the room.

I watch her leave before sinking back into my chair, looking at the list of rules in my lap.

1. No friendship
2. Nothing too personal
3. Don't give out too much
4. Promote your father
5. Never, ever talk any ill of your father, or the law

I let out a breath when my eyes skim over the last rule. It wouldn't be hard. But the feeling of betraying myself sunk deep into my stomach