I haven't been to Italy before so I'm guessing that all of this would be pure inexperienced. If you guys would like to help me out and point out my mistakes, feel free! 

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Chapter 22 - Walking Away || Cassidy's P.O.V.

When I came back to the tree, which I left Clarissa and Reese to take care of, I was thrown with questions at the same time.

"Where did you go?"

"We were looking for you."

"Did you see what happened?"

"Did anything happen?"

"Did you go to the washroom?"

"I told Reese I checked you there but he told me that I was just covering you up."

"Did you go to the clinic?"

"Tell him that I didn't lie, Cassy."

"Are you hurt?"

"Do you feel dizzy?"

"Wait, I think you're hot."

"You're pale!"

"No, she's not. It's because the sun is directing at her."

"Oh my chocolates, you're sweating. You're going to have a heat stroke."

"Why can't you talk?"

"Are you suddenly deaf?"

"Cassy, are you alright?"

My head was spinning with their questions. I took a deep breath and put my hand in front of me, motioning for them to stop talking.

"I heard screaming. I saw bully. No more bully now. I'm here," I said simply.

They must have been expecting some kind of answer that I rushed to the clinic because I feel like I'm pregnant or I hid in the bathroom because nature is calling.

Well, they seemed taken aback by my answer. The bell rang, making the three of us changing the conversation and hurrying to class.

I opened the door knob and I can hear silence. Pure silence. A silent that is much scarier than noise.

"Hello?" I inhale the familiar smell of the house, which smells nothing like my parents.

"Good afternoon," Sasha greeted me.

"I'm just going upstairs," I said and then I slowly walked to my bedroom. One step. Two step. Three step. Is Mom home? Four step. Five step. Nope, I didn't hear anything. Six step. How about Fa--? Seven step. No way. If Mom's not home, Father's chance of--, seven step. Eight step. Nevermind. Nine step. Should I tell them about—Ten step. Last step. Or not.

I close the door behind me and smell my bedroom. Slowly, I walk to my closet and open it. Immediately, I saw my old luggage. I picked it up and opened it silently.

I packed my clothes which I picked out without caring, I mean, I have no one to impress really. Then I packed my shampoos and stuffs on a small bag and a hair dryer. I readied my passport, notebook and a pen on my handbag and I took my favorite jacket, a black and white jersey, out so I won't forget to bring it tomorrow. I mean, I don't really need to bring anything to Italy. They said they will get us a five-star hotel so I think they have some other things that I don't have to bring on my luggage.

There. All packed. Wait, I think I'm forgetting something.

Oh, yes.

Wait, what was it that Cassy always told me to bring on my pocket or purse if I'm going out. Is it lipstick? No, I don't think so. Or mascara? Hm, no. I shake my head as I eliminate what I am going to bring on my luggage.

I know! My gloves and scarf.

I put it inside my luggage and looked at it.

It isn't so bad, after all. People say that it's hard to pack and the girls seemed to complain that they don't have anything to wear but their clothes says it all, "BRING ME!"

If I could only – wait, did I just smell cookies?

Then I heard someone knocked, probably Sasha since she's the only person here at home.

"Yes?" I asked while looking at my luggage again for sure.

"I brought cookies." Sasha opened the door and without realizing what she might see, she put down the cookies at my table before her mouth landed to the ground.

"Cassidy Jones, are you planning to run away from your parents?" Sasha asked, but it is more like an order.

I rolled my eyes as I remembered that I haven't told anyone yet about my trip. I was even surprised that my classmates don't know about it. It's whether that or they kept their mouths shut because ... I don't really know.

Maybe making fun of Connor won't do them well, especially if they're a wanna-be. Jealous Stella and Sheena would fire up again and drama would be made.

That's my theory.

"Answer me," Sasha looked angry now, putting her hands behind her waist.

"Well, it's not really that big news. Clarissa invited me and Reese to a fashion show last time and I won a ticket to Italy for a fashion trip for two days, really, no big deal. They will sort out the expenses and I will be living on a five-star hotel. I'll be fine," I said nonchalantly, motioning my hands sometimes to make it less serious.

"You're going to have a serious jet lag. It's six hours difference there! And your parents don't know you're going. Do you even know what hotel you will be staying?" Sasha lectured me.

"Sasha, I promise that I'll be fine. Besides, the whole trip will be filmed, so they have to take care of me, really. Not that I have a choice or anything. And it's just two days. I won't really adapt their time there and I will leave a note for my parents," I answered calmly.

"When do you plan on leaving a note for them?" Sasha raised her eyebrow.

"Tonight," I bit my lip.

"Well, when are you leaving?" Sasha pressed.

"Tomorrow morning. Nine am to be exact. A limousine will fetch me, so by that time, I will be taken care of," I answered honestly.

The scene was like a mother and daughter talking, but I really hoped it was my mom I am talking to right now.

"Your parents will be going home early tonight. Your mother's plans have been delayed and your father will be working on his office instead so he could stay up late," Sasha said as she fixed her clean apron.

I nodded and Sasha turned away.

My parents have been keeping up updates for Sasha to know if they're eating at home so Sasha could prepare them food.

So, I guess I will have to deal face-to-face with my parents about my trip.

My prediction: They wouldn't really care about it. But a part of me still thinks that they wouldn't let me go.

My plan: Don't act like a rebel who does crazy stuffs.

Accuracy of success: 49.9 %

I went on my laptop to check the weather on Italy, only to realize that I won't be needing my gloves and jacket because it's going to be hot as hell in there. 

Silence. 

Just like the silence I heard when I entered the house.

I waited for a few minutes but they kept eating.

"So?" I said once again.

They didn't answer. Mom was busy doing something on her phone, texting probably. Dad was busy reading a report that was made by his assistant.

Silence.

"Are you guys . . . okay with it?" I sighed.

That was the fifth time I said something after telling them my trip. They were looking at me while I was explaining about the fashion show and the trip, Sasha even refills our water after I took small sips, making it obvious that she wants to know what my parents will say.

"I'm going upstairs. I have to wake-up early tomorrow for the trip." I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood up.

"Who said you're going to the trip?" My father spoke. 

Sasha stopped on her way to refilling my dad's water and stood still. My eyes are wide and I can feel my heart beating inside, pumping blood around my body. I can feel it.

Thud thud. Thud thud.

I froze from my seat. I kind of expected that, but I wish he didn't make a big deal about it. He looked up from the report and looked at me for the second time of the day.

"Well, they planned already for tomorrow and for my trip. I see that you guys have no problem with it since none of you objected," I said nonchalantly.

"How will we know what will happen there?" Mom asked. Seriously. If this was how my parents going to act all parent-y to me, then I should have done this way before.

"You have been to Italy before, Mom. You know what it's like. Besides, we're just going to fashion trips," I rolled my eyes. I hate that I'm acting like fashion trips are nothing because I really really really do hate them. 

And even though I hate the whole idea of this trip, I don't know why I still want to argue my parents about this so I can go.

"But your mom is an adult. And you're not even eighteen yet," My father objected.

"I am seventeen. And I'm not going alone. There will be supervisions since the whole thing will be taped," I said, repeating my words I said a while ago which they did nothing but stare at me.

"Fine. Go," Mom said finally. I half-smiled but a part of me is sad that they didn't even ask if what hotel I was staying or anything that Sasha asked.

"Whatever your mom says," Dad added. I nod and stood up from my seat and excused myself. I didn't say anything after that and just went upstairs to my bedroom.

I closed the door behind me, holding back my tears.

I hoped on my bed and pressed my face on my pillow. I can smell my mother's scent still. Sasha knows I loved it so she always laundry my pillow sheet with mom's favorite soap.

I let out my tears, hoping for my parents to be overprotective for once. I know Father said no at first, but why did he stop there? Aren't they afraid for my safety? Well, I did say that there will be supervisions. But why didn't they ask who they were? They could be anybody.

I mean, I do hope that I'm not going to Italy since who knows what might happen there and everything about fashion and those... clothes-- little clothes that they are wearing making me puke. I'm half hoping that I could excuse myself on not going and say that my parents won't let me. 

Wait, I could act like my mother's voice and call them and tell them --- No. That won't work. Sasha will find out about it first before my parents do. I mean, they can track down the number and what if they called again even though I told them not to call then---

Oh goodness.

I cried because of envy of my classmates. I cried because I wished I had a family like Clarissa whose relatives remember her family and they would laugh and would ask each other how they are doing. I cried because Reese was going to Spain along with his parents whose always look out for him and would never let him allow to go out without their permissions because they care about him.

I cried because I wished Sasha was with me now.

I cried more because I hoped for Sasha, instead of my parents.

I woke up by my alarm and I rubbed my eyes. I can feel the dry tears on my cheeks so I wash my face on the faucet. I wonder if how early the others woke up today just to make Connor and I comfortable with the limousine and stuffs. Oh, Connor. I almost forgot that he will be with me for the trip.

I slipped on to my soft slippers and went to the bathroom and washed my face.

I opened my closet and picked out a shirt and pants as I yawned. I wore my shirt and pants with my eyes closed and would open them only if I have a hard time changing. I comb my hair once and saw myself on the mirror—a very tired Cassidy. For the first time, I noticed that my shirt and pants didn't match and I looked horrible. What will they say when they sees me like this? And I would probably not look good on the camera when I'm with Connor since he always looks good on any kind of outfit he's wearing. Wait, why am I thinking what him and how good he looks? He would probably look at me weirdly when I am dressed like this going to a trip to Italy. Wait, why am I thinking what he would think of me? Argh!

But then, they will film me so everyone will see my outfit. It's not that I am ashamed of my outfit while I'm in Italy which surely everyone looks good. I mean, I stand out. But then in a bad way. I thought of what Clarissa told me on what looks good to me.

I went to my closet and thought for a minute. I changed my shirt into a green long buttoned shirt that was a hand-me-down from my mom. It surprisingly fits me well.

I remembered that Mom wore this same shirt when she brought me to school for my first day. I smiled at the mirror when I noticed how Mom and I looked alike. With my dark brown hair that looks like black from far away, my flat nose that Mom always worried about, and my dimples which made Mom and I more look alike. I didn't notice these things since I rarely look at myself in the mirror except if I need to wash my face.

I mean, I don't apply gloss or something. I don't wear make-up. I don't clip my hair in a very complicated way.

I looked at my pants, feeling that my pants aren't that horrible. And it's comfortable. I mean, I'm going on a trip to Italy on an airplane. It would probably take hours. And I won't wear something that is not comfortable for the sake of fashion. But then, everything about this trip is fashion. Ugh! This is why I hate ... all of this!

I looked at my closet again, heaving a sigh and told myself that I would only make this kind of appearance because of this trip. After this, I will be back to normal.

I have to stop feeling sorry for myself. And I should dress better for myself.

I picked out a pair of white pants that Clarissa gave me for my birthday last year. I wonder if it still fits me. When I tried on it, I hoped that it wouldn't fit me because I've grown thinner or I've eaten a lot since then so I wouldn't need to wear this pair of white pants anymore and change into—wait. I buttoned my pants and took a sigh and fell on my bed. So much for convincing myself not to wear this.

I'm so tired of this whole 'making myself look good' because of the film, not because of Connor. I have to keep reminding myself that.

I stood up again, reminding myself that I only have an hour before the limousine would come.

I looked at my luggage and saw one of my favorite shirt, a red see-through shirt with a collar and golden buttons which made it look nice. But my favorite part is a big eyeglasses picture on the middle. I wonder if that would look appropriate. I mean, I think it's fashionable since Reese gave it to me it three years ago at my birthday.

Yeah, that will do. I guess Clarissa helped him out picking that shirt. I mean, right? Wait, I shouldn't really talk about fashion, I sound like Clarissa which brings me shivers.

I looked at my extra jeans that have holes in the knees and another one at the back of my leg. Is that appropriate? I guess in the fashion world, it is. Check. For example, I saw girls wearing those kinds of jeans on the fashion show. I think it's appropriate.

I closed my small luggage and smiled at myself for finally doing something that Clarissa thought would never happen-- I'm caring for my fashion. She told me to promise her that I'm really a straight girl. Well, I guess a straight girl doesn't always have to care for what she wears every time. Well, guess what again? I did it. And it's all because of this trip, which brings me to hate it even more.

I stroll my luggage and bring it out of my bedroom. I brought it downstairs and when Sasha saw me, she offered me to help which I might be rude enough to decline since I told her that it might hurt her. Well, it's true. With her wrinkles and white hair, you might mistake her for being weak. But in reality, she cooks, cleans the house and does our laundry. That's a real superwoman there. Yep, superwoman is true everyone. Just want to clear it out.

She dragged me to the living room after I dropped my luggage and gave me a plate with salad. I ate it faster than I usually do since I only have ten minutes. I'm a slow eater so basically, I eat less amount of food when I'm at school so I could finish faster. After I ate, I quickly went to clean my teeth and when I saw my face again in the mirror to check my teeth, I saw my hair frizzier than before. I frowned and use my hand to comb it. Well, it looks better now. But still frizzy. I sighed as I walked out and heard a doorbell.

"It's for you, Ms. Jones," Sasha informed me. She stood beside the opened door which gave me enough view for the black limousine and the driver standing in the front door with black sunglasses on.

"And you look lovely." She gave me a warm smile which made me look at myself in the mirror near the door. For the first time, I looked proud and happy that I did such effort to make myself look good. And it actually feels nice.

"Thank you." I kissed Sasha on the cheeks and walked out of the house with my luggage. The driver offered me help but I politely rejected, total opposite reason is that I can handle myself. Just because he looks tough and muscular behind those big sized tuxedo doesn't mean a girl like me is weak. I placed my luggage behind the limousine and quickly sat inside.

But then, he's just doing his job. 

Ugh, this whole trip makes me overthink a lot.

It's not really my first time in the limousine since I have been on my father's when Mom and I planned on surprising him on his birthday at work which turned out that he canceled all of his meetings and stayed at home instead which made all of us laugh at each other on how we looked for each other for hours. He planned on surprising us. We planned on surprising him. He planned to stay at the house. We planned on surprising him at his office. Mother didn't notice him because Dad left the bed early because he went on jogging.

Long story short; that was a long time ago. It was a history now.

I looked at the window, when I realized something familiar. Isn't that Connor's car? It looks familiar. But then, there are a lot of cars like his everywhere.

Just when I thought of sleeping for the tiring day, which I spent on looking for clothes, I saw Connor walking out of his house.

Wait, why is he coming on our way? Was he sitting here beside me? Doesn't he have his own limousine to fetch him up?

Can this show actually afford even two limos? 

He walked past the limousine and went back. I sighed in relief. He wasn't sitting next to me because one, he didn't open the door and two, he passed us. I was about to look behind me and wonder where Connor was heading to when I realized that he was now sitting next to me.

"For a girl, your luggage seems to be small. No offense," Connor blurted out.

I looked at him with wide eyes. The driver went on driving and it took me seconds to realize that he was talking to me.

"None taken," I forced a smile and looked away.

We were only on the same car for three minutes and I hate every moment for it. But then, since when did I stop hating this whole trip?

I shifted my body farther than Connor's and I looked outside. 

At least the birds are happy. 

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a u t h o r ' s   f r e e   s p a c e :

The picture on the side is about Cassidy's luggage. One of them is. It's up to you to pick which one is hers since I can't decide which one :) 

Feel free to donate some votes to me and comment down below because I totally appreciate them! :) 

This chapter is dedicated to sampopp7 because her story  "Good Guys are the New Bad Boys" is gooold, I tell ya! 

What do you think will happen next on Italy?

P.S. SMILE! :')

"Smile is the shortest and fastest communication between strangers." ― Saru Singhal