Burning Willow

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Turned out, nobody really cared about my stepfather's conference.

That morning, two hours prior to the release of the media footage, another story popped up which was gaining both local and national attention.

I had met Chelsea for lunch yesterday at a well-known cafe. I had explained everything, and she in turn, told me she and Noah were more than surprised when they had found the check, mainly because the city had refused to help them.

All in all, Chelsea was a really nice person. Outgoing, smart and funny - I could definitely see myself becoming friends with her in the future.

"Kylie." Mom looked up as I entered the dining room. She straightened her skirt as she took a bite out of her breakfast salad.

"Hey, mom." I said. I flopped on the chair and clasped my hands together. 

"Breakfast?" She asked. "I ordered you some of that jam you liked. Local, too."

I pursed my lips, suddenly wanting to run away from this whole situation. I realized that apologizing for my actions was inevitable. I had to do it.

Besides, mom hadn't been so bad these past few days. After the last time I yelled at her, she quietened down, choosing to retreat to her office and work on her mood board everytime she was called for lunch or dinner.

"I'm sorry, mom." I told her. At my words, her head snapped up in surprise. "I shouldn't have yelled."

A ghost of a smile played on her face. "It's okay, darling." She said. "Work has me quite stressed, so I understand I'm not the easiest person to live with."

I nod and from the little basket, take a price of toast and bite into it.

"When's the runway date?"

"In three weeks." She said. She looked at me with hopeful eyes, and I immediately knew what was about to come.

"Ae you sure you don't want to participate? You could be the--"

I held back a groan. Really, mom? We'd gone over this a hundred times. 

"I can't," I said, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic. "I'm working on the gala, remember? Top that with schoolwork and projects, and I barely have time to brush my hair." Nevermind the fact that I didn't brush my hair as it was.

"Ah, the party." She said. "How's it coming along? Did you make the guest list yet?"

"I'll leave that up to you and dad."

"Good, it'll be a great advertising opportunity for the fashion show." She clapped her hands together. "I can't wait to see the venue."

Speaking of the venue, it was almost done. The paint had been dealt with, and faux balconies and decorations added and removed and finalized.

"How's dad's speach coming along? " I said dryly.

She shrugged. "I plan on accompanying him today, but..." she frowned. "I hope it goes alright. Those media folk are like vultures, just waiting to sweep in."

She finished her salad and got up, picking up the TV remote. "It's supposed to be featured live on all the news channels, and..." she turned on the TV, and switched on to one of the news channels.

A blaring red light emerged from the screen, titled 'BREAKING NEWS'
I frowned. The last breaking news was of my dad's company, meaning hardly anything ever happened these days.

A man in a suit appeared behind a desk. His hands were clasped together tightly as he looked directly into the camera like an experienced reporter. "...the body was found dumped near an alleyway of Dante's, a local club popular with the youth. Police are saying..."