Another day under the gloriously sunny sky—so bright that even the clouds looked jealous—I was sitting at my desk in class, stuck between a sea of boredom and chaos.
Liam was behind me, constantly annoying me with his silly jokes, while Mark was busy trying to explain something to a group of girls who clearly understood but just wanted the attention.
Typical.
Meanwhile, the teacher was droning on about physics.
"Remember, energy cannot be created or destroyed—only transformed," he said, sounding like he'd memorized it in his sleep.
Yeah, blah blah blah.
If only I could teleport myself anywhere else—maybe to a beach, or at least out of this classroom.
Just then, the door swung open with flair—enter Mr. Rick, our art teacher, and honestly, a fashion icon with more sass than I could ever dream of.
He strutted in like he owned the place, sunglasses on, a grin that said, "I know something you don't."
"Class attendance," he announced, eyeing Mr. Room—the physics teacher—with a look that could melt ice.
"Will you please excuse me?" he said, shooing Mr. Room away like he was swatting a fly.
Mr. Room sighed dramatically, shooting a glance at the class.
"Well... your home room teacher doesn't want you to learn. Hope you learned something today. Don't forget to submit your homework!"
Mr. Rick rolled his eyes so hard I feared they might fall out.
"Yeah, they learned something—who even loves physics anyway?" he scoffed, crossing his arms.
The class giggled, and Jasper shouted, "Yeah, no one does!" and of course the class laughed even though it wasn't funny.
Mr. Room sighed in defeat, packed up his bag like he was heading to a war zone, and stormed out of the room, leaving us in peace—or so we thought.
I was just grateful Mr. Rick was here to save us.
He turned to us with a mischievous grin, chewing gum loudly—probably mint, or maybe bubblegum—who knew?
"Okay, class," he announced, "your class captain will check attendance. I'm just here to—" he paused dramatically "—announce something!"
The class leaned forward, excited.
"We're having a beauty contest," he said with a wink, "and yes, you heard me right. Beauty! So start practicing those mirror selfies, folks!"
The room erupted into cheers, some students already fantasizing about winning, while others just wondered if they should start practicing their best pout.
Mr. Rick giggled mischievously, then began gesturing his hands dramatically as if he was about to reveal the secrets of the universe.
"We will pick five contestants from each class," he announced, voice dripping with flair.
"Three girls, two boys," he added with a wink.
Then, with a flourish, he clapped his hands together like a magician about to perform a grand trick.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms, thinking, No way he's going to pick me.
I wasn't exactly a runway model, after all.
I was pretty sure he knew that, and honestly, I was happy with that. I knew I wasn't his type, and I was okay with that.
Suddenly, from behind me, I heard a whisper.
"I think he should choose you because you're cute," someone said softly. I turned around and sighed.
It was Liam, of course.
"Liam… will you keep quiet… or do you want me to slap you?" I whispered, trying not to laugh.
Liam winked cheekily and leaned back, as if he'd just delivered the funniest joke ever. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the front.
Mr. Rick's voice cut through the classroom again.
"Okay, class! Our contestants are… Regina," he said with a dramatic pause. Yeah of course Misses sippy will be one of them.
"Emma."
Wow. Emma? Really? I couldn't help but stare.
I mean, she's gorgeous, but I thought he was going to choose Isla maybe one of the mean gorgeous girls.
"And… Ayana," Mr. Rick finished with a grin.
Then he pointed directly at me. "No excuses this year"
My jaw nearly hit the desk. " Wait, What?! Sir, there must be a mistake… I—"
Before I could finish, Mr. Rick cut me off with a wave of his hand.
"Shh… shh… shh… Beauty isn't just about looks," he said, giving me a look that was almost polite. "It's from inside."
Wow.
That's a nice way of saying, "You're not exactly a beauty queen, but hey, I respect your effort."
I mumbled, "But, sir… I have no experience. I don't have style or anything."
Mr. Rick rolled his eyes like he was tired of explaining the obvious.
"I don't care. You're doing it," he said simply, like he was giving me a homework assignment.
I sighed in frustration. "Great," I muttered under my breath.
Then, he turned to the boys. "And from the boys, we'll choose Liam and Ethan," he announced with a flourish.
Liam clapped loudly, grinning like he just won the lottery. "Yeah, let's goooo!" he cheered, practically bouncing in his seat.
Ethan just nodded—calm, cool, and collected—as if he didn't care either way.
Mr. Rick clapped his hands together again, clearly enjoying the attention.
"Okay, the five of you, come meet me after class," he said with a wink, then strutted out like he was on a runway.
And oh, his outfit—wait, you want details? .
Imagine this: Mr. Rick in a sharp, brightly colored blazer with shiny lapels that could blind you, paired with skinny jeans that hugged his legs perfectly and a pair of flashy sneakers that looked like they belonged on a fashion runway.
His sunglasses, even indoors, and a scarf tied loosely around his neck—like he was a runway model on a coffee break.
He walked with the kind of swagger that made it clear he was the king of fashion—and sass.
As he left, he threw a glance back, giving us a sly smile that said, "Y'all better step up your game."
As the bell finally rang, the classroom erupted like a volcano—students spilling out like popcorn from a hot pan.
The hall was suddenly buzzing with chatter, gossip, and the kind of ruthless teasing only high schoolers can master.
"Will Ayana, that nerd, actually think she can win?" someone sneered. "How is she supposed to beat Regina? She's practically a supermodel."
"I mean, Regina's our girl—she's got the looks, the style, the sass. We can count on her," another voice chimed in.
"Emma's pretty too, I guess. I think I'm with her," said someone confidently, probably dreaming about her future Instagram fame.
And then—oh, this was a classic—I overheard someone snorting and muttering, "That ugly snort will look like a potato beside them.
" Yeah, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. People could be so cruel, but I just tuned out the noise.
I headed straight for my locker, trying to drown out the chaos. Just as I was about to open it, someone called out cheerfully, "Hey there…!!"
Of course, it was Liam.
Who else? This guy's been bugging me since forever—like a fly that just won't quit. I didn't know why I even bothered.
"What, Liam?" I asked, turning around with a sigh.
He sighed back dramatically, like he just carried the weight of the world. "Are you ready for the beauty contest?" he asked, eyes twinkling with excitement.
I shook my head so hard my hair whipped around.
"No way. I'm not. I don't even want to be in the stupid contest. I hate makeup, shiny clothes, and pretending I'm a doll," I muttered, rubbing my temples.
Liam nodded like I'd just said something profound.
"Okay, but… I think you'd do pretty great," he said, nudging my shoulder like we were best friends or something.
Then he walked away, whistling a tune, leaving me to roll my eyes so hard I feared they might pop out.
I was about to turn and leave when—wait for it—the biggest idiot of all stepped right into my path.
Who? The tower.
Yep, Regina herself, looking like she just stepped off a runway, flanked by her "minions"—Ava, Isla, and Minna—somewhere in the shadows, probably whispering about how fabulous Regina looked.
"Hey, Regina," I said sweetly, trying not to sound annoyed. "What do you want?"
She smirked, the kind of smirk that could kill a small animal.
"Just here to tell you your ugly face will ruin our little competition. It's best if you don't show up. You're super ugly, after all," she sneered, loud enough for everyone around to hear.
Then she burst out laughing like she'd just told the funniest joke in the universe.
I felt my face heat up—no, burn—like a microwave on full power.
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to tell her exactly what I thought.
But hey, no trouble till the end of high school, right? I took a deep breath, trying to stay cool, even if I wanted to throw a potato at her.
Regina turned on her heel and strutted away, her minions giggling behind her like a pack of hyenas.
I clenched my jaw and muttered under my breath, "Burning… but hey, no trouble till the end of high school."
Because if there's one thing I knew for sure, it's that high school drama was just getting started.