As he stepped out of his room to head down to dinner, Jon saw Zoe leaving her room for the same purpose. That's when it hit him.
As soon as he looked at Zoe, he was hit by a wave of revulsion so strong he almost felt down. He hated Zoe right then. She was chunky and stupid and she'd never be as pretty as him in a million years. There were losers and then there were Goths. People like Zoe were worse than the losers Jon stepped on every day because they refused to fall in line. And worse, they had no sense of fashion. They packed their greasy forms into halloween costumes and scribbled incomprehensible nonsense into their terrible poetry books and they ran around pretending to be vampires. These people really thought they were better than him? Who did they think they were? Jon was pissed off that he even had to share a zip code with a goth, let alone his home. Cruel thoughts bubbled to the surface of his mind.
"Oh look, the freak show's going to dinner. Looking to pack on a few more pounds, chunk?" Jon said, smirking what would have been a familiar smirk if he could see it.
Zoe spun around, an angry look on her face. "AT least my dinner won't end up in the toilet afterwards, asshole!" she said, giving him the finger.
Jon was taken aback. He was always surprised when they rebelled (wait? Always? He had never acted like this before). He curled his lip as he sneered at her. "Like, whatever tubby. Better than looking like a halloween costume threw up." Jon put his hands on his hips in what was a decidedly feminine victory pose.
At that point Zoe looked like she was about to attack him. And Jon actually believed it for a second, despite his bravado. But then she just turned and went downstairs, muttering "Whatever, fag" under her breath.
Jon smiled triumphantly and then waited a few moments before skipping downstairs. He didn't feel the least bit of remorse for the way he had treated his sister.
