I wake up, yawning, and stretch my arms before sliding out of bed. I glance at my reflection in the mirror, staring at my doe eyes.
After taking off my bonnet, I head to the bathroom.
I grab my hair curler and plug it in, the hum of electricity filling the small space.As the curls tighten, my thick, long hair falls around my face.
Once I finish, I move on to my face care routine. I brush my teeth, rinse, and wipe my deep olive skin clean. Noticing a small pimple near my jaw, I slap on a green star pimple patch for good measure.
Feeling satisfied, I step out and glance at my alarm clock.
7:48.
Perfect. I have time for a quick bath.
Ten minutes later, I step out of the hot shower, wrapped in a towel, and quickly change into my school uniform: a navy blue blazer with light piping, a white shirt and tie, a short black pleated skirt, black knee-high socks, and black Mary Janes.
I twist my hair into a low bun, leaving a few bangs to frame my face. Another check of the time:
8:01.
I still have a few minutes. Just enough to do my edges.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes.
Where r u? It's Leon.
Home.
Why?
Doing edges.
Ugh, you always late bruh.
Ik lol.
I switch my phone off and focus, swooping my edges carefully. Once done, I brush the front of my hair, grab my bag, and start walking to school.
8:10.
Twenty minutes.
I glance at my outfit again, remembering today's announcement: the winners of the Halloween best outfit contest for each class.
The winners would go on a special field trip.
Excitement bubbles in my chest. I had gone all out—a detailed witch costume complete with a broomstick, cauldron, and even a cat.
But there was competition. Viviana.
The girl everyone adored. The rich girl.
I'd never understood what made her so special.
She dressed as Cleopatra, and I had to admit—she looked amazing. Perfect makeup, a matching wig, a realistic staff. And, of course, all the attention went to her. My chances of winning suddenly felt uncertain.
I shake my head, pushing the thought away as I enter the school. Most students are still sleeping in class. I step outside for a moment, and there she is—Viviana—in the field of peonies.
My cheeks heat up. Her blonde hair flows like silk, her features so flawless. I can see why everyone fawns over her.
She's everything I wish I could be.
"Oh, hi!" she waves, smirking.
I mumble a quiet, "Hi..."
"What're you doin', Annie?" she teases.
I grit my teeth. She knows exactly how to get under my skin.
"My name isn't Annie."
"Ok, calm down, Ari."
"It's not that either."
"Then what is it?"
"It's Anok. Just Anok."
"Ok, Ann."
"We aren't friends," I say sharply.
"But I'd like for us to be," she says, extending her hand with a warm smile.
"No! Go away!" I run off, hiding my flustered face.
What's wrong with me?