The assistant

Ripped jeans

"Hey Mom, anything up." I asked warily.

Damn it. The news got to them so fast, its shocking.

And my Dad. He is usually never home, always working or something. He barely speaks to Aiden or I , But he is always talking to someone at work.

I would consider my Mom happy Dad is even here. But, then there is Me.

I carefully flipped my jet black hair and put on a I-don't-have-anything-to-hide smile. In returned my parents gave me a blank stare.

" Where did you get those disgraceful jeans. I remember you with a respectful a normal skirt. Have you became one of those girls, who change there clothes at school? what kind of child have I raised? Noah, did we even raised a respectful child who embraces themselves? Instead of a child who despises themselves. My-" Mom starts to ramble.

I looked down at my ripped jeans. This is actually my favorite jeans, thanks a lot Mom.

" Stop. Avery Emerson Crystal, you were raised to be a good child not a rebellion . Do you want to explain yourself, before we give a decision." My father says calmly.

Lining his voice was disappointment. I knew my Dad too much that I knew he would act calmly, when he is actually feeling shameful

Even if I don't care what my mom thinks, 'cause she's always voicing out. Go figure. But Dad is always the quiet one.

" She doesn't even deserve a say in our decision. She might even have a boyfriend ." She said the word so sickly.

Already did.

My parents sat on the marble counter tops, hands folded. My parents were so different yet the same. They balanced each other out.

My Dad is Turkish and British, My mother Japanese and Australian with an American accent.. My Dad was known for being the wallflower at Yale- this is not the time or day for me to be going over about my Parents.

I quietly and slowly sat on one of the high chairs by the counter table. I faintly smiled as my Mother frowned. How quickly can we be from having a Mother/daughter bond to hating each others guts. Guess I know where I get my impulse and competive from

" Well, I was going to class when the principal's daughter tripped me and laughed at me and called me some abusive words." I start.

Might as well lie and get away with it.

My mother almond eyes start to soften as I lie/told the story.

" Then she pushed me and I fought back. Ended up in the principal's office threanted to be kicked out. " I say dramatically.

Dad's eyes are with rage and fury.

" He did what?" He frantically started to turn on his phone.

He started to dial the phone, pacing through the kitchen.

" Avery, change those god damned jeans will ya?" Mom demanded.

I thought she forgot about that. Well, I guess when you they are in front of you, you can't avoid that.

I quickly ran upstairs and flopped on my queen size bed. The red color on the sheets helped soothe me to go to sleep. My walls were loitered with pictures of everything. From family to friends to art to odd things I took a photo of.

When I get of University, as if that's gonna happen, I want to be a photographer and take photos for the worlds top magazine.

I pick up the remote and turned the T.V.

" BREAKING NEWS; FAMOUS MODEL/ ASSISTANT ,CASSANDRA BLAKE, WAS IN A FATAL CAR CRASH AND NOW IN A COMA." A commanding voice says.

The news was on and a skinny, gorgeous blonde grinning at the camera with a handsome guy's hand wrapped around her waist. They both looked happy and in love. Perfect even.