“You can’t leave me,” my best friend whispers into the phone, her voice urgent and filled with abject terror. In the background, I hear Lillianna Cox, the world’s worst boss, having one of her legendary temper tantrums. “Yikes. That’s at least one good thing about this whole situation. I’ll never have to hear that again.” It’s not the answer Cassie wants to hear. “Meghan Ann Julliard. Get right back onto that plane and fly back to New York. I can’t do this alone. I heard she’s making us work late on Christmas Eve, and anyone who doesn’t show up to her party on New Year’s is getting written up. Then—” She cuts off, and the phone goes dead. I can only imagine that Lillianna caught her on the phone. Personal calls are prohibited at Stitch, and since it’s the top fashion magazine at the moment, everyone will put up with any rule and the world’s worst boss to work there. I personally tried for four years to get on staff . . . and a scant six months later, here I am. Leaving it behind. So, as I sit on the El and watch Chicago’s skyscape blur past, I don’t…