My room is tiny, cluttered, and totally nerdy—a shrine to my obsession with all things geeky.
There's a poster of a T-pop BUS (yes, a bus with T-pop idols on it) taped crookedly on the wall, and piles of comic books teetering on every surface.
It's basically a nerd's paradise—or disaster zone, depending on your perspective.
Nena whispered softly, "If you keep doing that, your brain will be as fresh as a daisy."
We were both upside down on the floor, balancing on our hands like a pair of awkward flamingos.
My eyes were closed, but honestly, I was exhausted just holding that position.
"Nena, I don't think this is working," I mumbled, wobbling a little.
She groaned dramatically.
"Okay, get down," she said with a theatrical sigh, and we both collapsed onto our feet (well, I collapsed onto my butt—I think that counts as getting down).
She looked at me smugly.
"Hmm… You don't know what real exercise is." She sneered playfully, like she was the fitness guru of the universe.
I sighed. "Yeah, but I do know I'm not ready for your 'extreme' workouts."
Nena giggled and just as I thought I might get a breather, the door swung open—my mom, holding a phone like she'd just won the lottery, a big smile plastered on her face.
"Nena… someone called from your house. She claimed to be your maid and said your dad wants to see you," she announced, then casually strolled out like she'd just delivered the best news ever.
Nena turned to me with a pout that could make a cat look cheerful. "Aww, I have to go now…"
I grinned. "Yep. Good luck explaining that to your 'maid.'"
She waved at me dramatically. "See you at school then!"
I nodded, trying not to laugh. "Yep. Bye! Don't forget to tell your dad I said hi… from a safe distance."
And with that, Nena strutted out.
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Oh boy.
Here we all were—six of us standing awkwardly in the middle of the stage, trying to warm up with our so-called partners for the competition.
Mr. Rick, the ever-fashionable coach, was there too, holding his coffee cup like it was some kind of trophy.
He looked sharp as always—dark sunglasses, a sleek blazer over a crisp shirt, and a confident grin that said, "I woke up like this."
Next to him, Liam and Mark stood with their own style.
Liam wore a designer hoodie that looked like it cost more than my entire wardrobe, paired with trendy jeans and shiny sneakers.
Mark, equally rich but casual, sported a polo shirt tucked into tailored chinos, his hair perfectly styled like he'd just stepped out of a magazine, His glasses fitted him perfectly.
And then there were Emma and Regina—both stunning, both dripping with rich, casual elegance.
Emma had on a flowing blouse, high-waisted jeans, and some stylish sneakers, her hair perfectly tousled.
Regina looked like a runway model in her oversized sunglasses, a designer jacket over a simple t-shirt, and gold hoops that sparkled even under the stage lights.
And me? I was rocking a pink T-shirt and shorts—comfort over style, even though I knew I should've worn something nicer.
But honestly, I didn't care.
Besides, standing right beside me was Ethan, dressed in a suit that looked like he'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.
His suit was sharp—jet black, tailored perfectly to his slim frame, with a crisp white shirt underneath and a sleek tie.
His shoes? Shiny and polished, reflecting the stage lights like a mirror. He looked like he was ready for a fancy dinner, not a school event.
I sighed dramatically. "Hey, Ethan… aren't you like, suffocating? I mean, it's hot, and you're wearing a suit and we've been—"
Before I could finish, he cut me off, voice calm and casual. "Shh… I wear a suit every day. Winter, summer, autumn, spring… I wear it alone," he said with a little smirk.
I blinked. "But… it's not safe—you're literally sweating."
He reached up and wiped the sweat off his forehead, then glanced at me like I was crazy.
"I'm not sweating. It's just water," he replied nonchalantly.
I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, we're not even outside."
He rolled his eyes.
"Whatever," he muttered, clearly unimpressed with my concern.
Suddenly, Mr. Rick cleared his throat loudly, commanding attention. We all straightened up and gathered in front of him.
"Okay, kids," he announced, "partners done. And we all know what we're supposed to do, right?"
We nodded eagerly—well, mostly eagerly. I'd never been good at this fashion stuff, honestly.
"So," Mr. Rick continued, "I want you all to go and choose the outfit you'll wear.
It has to match each other—yes, matching! We're competing against another school. Pink, nice outfits. Think of it as a fashion battle!"
I gulped. Match? Me? Not exactly my strong suit.
Liam raised his hand, looking a little confused. " But.. is it all six of us will match?"
Mr. Rick shot him a sharp look. "Liam, you're always talking. Shut your mouth," he said firmly.
''But no only the couples, I mean partners'' He added softly.
Liam nodded quickly, shutting up like a good boy.
"Alright, kids," Mr. Rick said with a sassy grin, "that's your assignment for today. Until next time!"
And just like that, with a dramatic flair, he strutted off stage, leaving us to face the fashion challenge.
Regina crossed her arms and shot me a mischievous smirk. "Ayana, what do you know about fashion? You're basically a ghost with no sense of ghostion," she giggled, making me roll my eyes.
"Just you wait and see," I shot back, smirking. "I will beat you."
She winked. "We'll see about that."
"How am I supposed to beat Regina? She's beautiful, cute, stunning, and—" I started to panic, shaking Nena's arm like it was a maraca as we strolled down Park Avenue—the fanciest street in town, where even the pigeons looked like they belonged in fashion week.
Nena was desperately trying to lick her ice cream before it melted completely.
Her tongue kept flicking out, but my trembling hands made her effort look like a wild animal attack.
"Ayana, pause! Please! My ice cream's melting!" she exclaimed, trying to lick again, but I was shaking so badly I almost knocked her over.
I froze, blinking in disbelief. "But Nene, Regina…"
She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Stop worrying about Regina… She's not that perfect. Honestly, in my own perspective, you're more beautiful," she said with a reassuring smile.
"Really?" I asked, feeling a tiny spark of hope.
"Yep! You just need a little touch-up," she added confidently.
I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and dread. "People put me in the category of Greek Nerd, not sexy librarian. You know, with my glasses," I mumbled, adjusting them nervously.
Nena grinned. "Your glasses? They're not that bad. They're big, yes, but they make your face look small—like a cute little owl. Plus, they're practically your superpower. 'Glasses of Greatness,' I call them."
I snorted. "Really? Well, I hope they give me superpowers to nail this fashion thing."
She nodded encouragingly. "You're gonna nail it. Just remember, confidence is the best outfit you can wear."
Feeling a little more confident, I smiled and nodded back. We paused in front of the most luxurious house I'd ever seen—like something out of a fairy tale, with tall white pillars, a massive golden door, and a garden that looked like it belonged in a royal palace. Honestly, I felt like I was about to walk onto the set of a royal drama.
Nena nudged me softly. "Want to come in? We could take a selfie with the mansion as a backdrop," she teased.
I shook my head quickly. "No way! I have lots of work to do. Like, a lot. I'll see you soon, okay?"
She nodded and strutted inside her palace of a house, waving dramatically like she was on the red carpet.