Anicka's P.O.V.
The trip to California was surely something to remember. It was the first time travelling without my parents, or at least one of them. To top it all off, I was travelling with a boy my age, which just so happens to be my 'bestfriend'.
Now, though, that we already got home, I'm still quite jeglagged after a day. Which was a bad thing since I had to help mom with the Thanksgiving dinner.
You must be wondering why we had to cook a Thanksgiving dinner when it's just the two of us. The truth is, I came home with a surprise.
"We're having dinner with a few of my business partners and Chris, by the way." My mom had told me while munching on some chips.
"What? No wayyy." I whined, because I knew at that time that my mom wanted me to help her cook for all the food.
"Yes way." She said, not taking her eyes off the tv.
So, that's how I ended up here in a pair of lady basketball shorts and a loose gray jumper.
"But mooooommm!" I groaned
"Just do it, Anicka." She snapped in annoyance.
"Bu-"
"Shut it, you're wasting time."
I pouted and started to work on chopping some spices. I don't understand my mom, we could've just booked a reservation at some fancy restaurant and save ourselves the time. But nooooo, she was just too keen on homemade meals.
Grumbling under my breath, I took some meat broths and worked on my soup.
"What are you making, Anicka? I thought I told you to make chic-?"
"Mom, it's too mainstream and if you're letting me cook, might as well let me choose what I want to cook. This will be great, trust me."
A wide grin stretched across her face as she said, "I knew I could count on you on this. Just do what you have to and do it fast so you'll have time to get ready. You have to look grand because I'll start to formally introduce you."
I frowned, confused. "But mom, you already did."
"Right, I did... As my daughter. But I won't just introduce you as my daughter, I'll be introducing you as the rightful heir to Summer's Clothing Line."
Well shucks.
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I took a deep breath and smoothed the flowy beige skirt of my dress. I placed the lipstick on my dresser top and blinked back at my reflection.
My beige dress with tribal designs on the abdomen and see-through straps and top part matched my pure black high heeled, boot-like shoes. I tied my hair into a, somewhat twisted, pinback braid with floral accents running down through it.
My mom insisted that I look as fancy as I could so that her business partners, and I quote "could see how beautiful her daughter is". Although I'm pretty sure that was just because she wanted her partners to see that I could be worthy of running a fashion company in the future.
As I finished applying some touch-ups on my mascara, the doorbell rang and a second after that, the click-clacking of heels in front of my room followed.
Taking in a sharp breath and plastering the smile that I practiced a while ago, I sauntered out of my room with my phone in hand.
I could hear voices chattering downstairs and I could vaguely hear female and male voices from the conversation. The heavy sound of my heels making contact with the stairs echoed through the halls and I could hear the chatters subside.
