[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190616/c1a4ba20e6b8148ebb772dcd0a70476e.png[/img][/center] [center][img]https://beneaththetangles.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/1-e1560271869115.jpg[/img][/center] Principal Wilshire did [i]not[/i] look himself. Not the most composed of men normally—rumor had it that the principal was one false note away from being fired, and even a loose connection between the school and Lily would certainly qualify as much—today he was especially distraught, disorderly, [i]sweaty[/i]. Kei approached him. "Mr. Wilshire, would you like me to begin the assembly?" The principal looked at him with wide eyes, as if Kei has just said the craziest thing rather than just suggest he start the event like he usually did as student class president, with a few quick words of introduction and leading the pledge of allegiance. "No, Kei. Please go sit in the rafters." Kei paused for half-a-beat—he usually sat in seats behind the podium along with the other student council officers and few teachers, who were seated there now. But it was fine. He took the opportunity to scuttle away with so much on his mind, including what he planned to do following the ceremony. Walking across the floor and up the steps to the third row, he remained the center of attention as always, getting gawks from the "hillbillies" as he mentally called them, the old-timers, racists who didn't want anyone new in their cities, especially chinks like him; smiles from the "nothings," as he referred to the girls and boys who had a romantic interest in him, despite none of them really knowing what he was like, and whom he referred to as being as empty in their souls and they were in their heads; and fist bumps from those few that he knew as "friends," a term which Kei honestly didn't really understand at all. As the assembly began, a pregnant girl and her friend loudly sat next to him. He knew the one girl's name—Genesis—for after all, they discussed her condition at various meetings. Some among administration and the student council were malicious and mean, and others spoke out of concern. Kei just thought it was no one's business. He didn't recall ever speaking to Genesis before. She seemed shy—maybe he should say something now, or at least following the principal's remarks, but again he was caught off guard as the stilted speech ended quickly. Kei arose, first as he tended to do, and said "Goodbye" to Genesis in the brief moment he caught her eye, before walking off, first in a direction that seemed to be out the school and toward the bike racks to leave for the community center, but after securing his bike and going a little that way, he made a turn toward some residences, toward a small, gated section of town where many of the old elite, and a few of the newly rich, made their homes. In the center of the group of houses was a manor, one befitting "royalty" for the city. It was the home of the mayor and his family. It was the home of Kei's beloved, Lily Turner. Leaving his bike a few houses down next to a fire hydrant, Kei walked the remaining steps to the estate. It felt like a ghost town—the streets were entirely clear. Of course they would be. This neighborhood was full of residents who long knew the Turners, who befriended them or otherwise tried to get into their good graces (and pocketbooks). They were all sure be at the community center, and likely early. Kei slipped on a cap and gloves and walked to the Turner's front gate. Moving his head away from a camera on the roof ledge spotting him, he lifted up a panel on the brick facade near the gate and typed in a code: 5-3-8-9-0-7. [i]Entry accessed. [/i] Kei moved quickly to the front door and entered the same combination, making his way into the house. The entire time, he breathed quickly (when at all). His heart beat so heavily that it was all he could hear as he moved down the hallways of the impressive mansion. One could get lost here, certainly if you have never visited before. Parlor room, ball room, dining room, library—and that was only the [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/4c/71/bc/4c71bc35a331059d3f9c2020572c22b9.jpg]first floor[/url]. But this was not Kei's first time here, nor his second or third. He did not know where all the stairs and doors led, but he knew his way to floor three, to the second room on the left past the palatial smoke room to the right. Not marked by anything special and only as elegant as every other door, a visitor wouldn't know that this room belonged to a missing woman, that it belonged to the lovely Lily Turner. ~~~ Kei did not know what he was looking for as he dug through Lily's belonging. He had not left anything with her, not ever. Kei was not the sentimental kind, not with possessions at least, and Lily had insisted they keep things "between them." So what trace would she have of him? Or what was is that Kei wanted of her? It took but a minute for the normally-rational boy to remember why he was there. Slowly moving through the bedroom, crossed by tape and carefully developed out as a crime scene, he went straight to Lily's closet. Opening the door, he began to rummage through a surprisingly modest wardrobe—stylish, chic, expensive, but not large. And so he quickly found what he was looking for, a [url=http://www.virlanihallberg.com/image/cache/data/category_14/wildfox-women-basic-pullover-clean-white-pilled-washed-jersey-wildf40533-tavyjlj-4286-500x500.jpg] vanilla sweater [/url], one he pictured in his mind when he dreamed of her, one he pictured when his mind, as of late, had been ravaged by nightmares. He pulled it off the hanger, slightly crumbled it and held it to his face. It was soft, like her. And as her smell wafted into his nose, whether imagined or real, Kei grabbed for his chest. It was beating uncontrollably, and his breath was much the same. He felt faint, as if he would collapse on that floor, and started to keel over. As Kei reached out to stop his fall, he grabbed onto a sweatshirt, pulling it off the hanger and dragging it down with him. As he sat on the floor, Kei calmed his breathing and brought himself back to a place of calmness (at least as calm as the boy could be after breaking into such a residence). He tied Lily's sweater around his waist, and was about to stand and leave when he looked at the sweatshirt he'd pulled down. In the dim light of the closet, he saw that it was black—[url=https://images.neimanmarcus.com/ca/2/product_assets/N/5/U/K/U/NMN5UKU_mb.jpg]a men's sweatshirt[/url] and marked with red letters that spelled ICON, a curious piece in Lily's collection. And recognizable, too... Kei wondered, [i]Where have I seen this before?[/i] Flashes came in and out of his mind. Literal flashes—like from a camera. At some event? The community center? Was it...the gala? Running through his memories, Kei remembered the gala event he had attended, a token representation from the high school (an outsider and Asian to boot) among the rich and famous. There, he saw the sweatshirt being worn by the type of man he despised, someone with power and influence and celebrity. It belonged to Damon Day. What it all meant, Kei dared not let enter into his mind and he took the sweater and ran out. He moved down the hallway stealthily and tried to conceal his thoughts. [i] She saw it and wanted the same. She was at the gala, too, after all.[/i] He continued down the first stairway and then past the atrium. [i] She had the money of course to buy one...but this isn't her. This isn't her at all...[/i] He moved toward the final set of stairs to enter the long walkway to the front door. [i] No...the truth is...this means something I don't want to hear about...something I don't want to know...[/i] As Kei walked past the double doors leading to the kitchen, he paused. Looking both ways, as if the room was full and people were watching, he entered in. Still wearing his gloves, Kei opened a pantry and took out a gallon of vegetable oil. He began pouring it on anything that looked wooden, on carpeting on the stairs, returning over and over to the kitchen for more, and when it ran out, he looked through the pantry and found something even better: two small containers of kerosene. Laying them along a trail a oil, one toward one end of the house and the other on the second floor, he returned to the kitchen one more time. Ripping a piece of paper towel from a dispenser, he lit it on a stove he turned on (and left aflame), and then made the long walk to the front entrance, careful not to light anything aflame, breathing deeply and with fear at the thing he was about to do. Opening the door, he stepped outside, and then tossed the lighted towel back into the house. He walked toward the gate, never turning back toward the cameras, except for half-a-second, and then only a twisting of his body as he intentionally snagged the sweatshirt he wore on a tree branch. It left behind a trace of a black sweatshirt, the front of which the cameras caught as well: "ICON." And Kei hurriedly scampered away, knowing the fire department would arrive and soon stop the flames.