It was around 6 in the morning—maybe a little earlier, maybe a little later—I wasn't quite sure because I'd already lost track of time in the chaos of my morning routine.
I had to be at school by 8, so I quickly took a bath to smell good enough to charm the socks off anyone.
Guess what? Nena is also here—she showed up at exactly five thirty, like she's auditioning for the early bird special at the breakfast club.
Why? Because today wasn't just any day.
Nope.
Not my birthday, not Jack's, not mommy's.
Today was the day—the day of the contest I had been waiting six long weeks for.
Nena was here to give me her "expert" morning routine to make my face look as fresh as a daisy on steroids.
We'd do all the makeup and dress-up at the venue of the contest itself—because apparently, I was just a blank canvas to be transformed into a masterpiece.
So, basically, she wasn't really getting me ready—she was more like my personal cheerleader mixed with a makeup artist on a sugar high.
"You're going to look stunning, my tall or short— queen," Nena blabbered excitedly, polishing my nails to a shiny, bubblegum pink. "I am so excited to see you slay that stage!"
"Oh, stop, Nena," .I said, popping a grape into my mouth like a snack thief in a vineyard.
"I won't look that beautiful. I'll always... look ugly," I mumbled, trying to sound modest but really just craving the grapes.
Nena giggled like she'd just discovered the secret to eternal youth. "You're so glad I came here this early just to dull you up," she teased, flicking my hair.
"And you dare to call yourself ugly? Girl, please, I'll turn you into a supermodel before breakfast!"
I burst into giggles, almost choking on the grape.
Then suddenly, my phone buzzed loudly beside me—because what's a morning without a little chaos? I grabbed it, groaned, and saw the caller ID.
It was Jack.
Of course.
Because he always calls at the worst possible moments—not out of care, but because he lives to annoy me.
"Yeah, hi Jack. What's up?" I said, trying to sound casual but knowing full well this was about to turn into a comedy show.
Before I could finish, he screamed in horror—like I'd just announced I'd joined a circus.
We were FaceTiming, and I was sporting that glorious green face mask Nena had shoved on my face like a DIY experiment gone wrong.
"What the hell is on your face? Oh my God," Jack shrieked, his voice cracking like a broken record.
"It's a face mask," I explained, trying to keep my composure—though I was pretty sure I looked like a frog who'd been caught in a rainstorm.
"Is it supposed to make you look beautiful or look like a frog?" he teased, grinning mischievously, clearly delighted by my facial transformation.
"Hey, if you call my friend ugly ever again, I'm going to touch your brain through your nose with my fingers," Nena threatened, wiggling her fingers like a mad scientist.
Jack blinked, startled. "Is Nena with you? the girl with a temper like the bomb?" he asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Yeah," I mumbled, trying not to laugh. "She's here. And, uh, she's... helping. And she's glaring at my phone maybe plotting to come wherever you are."
"Oh…!!!" Jack gasped dramatically. "I mean, you look pretty, Ayana… even a frog would be jealous, you're goin' to slay this contest" he added, then promptly hung up faster than a squirrel on a caffeine rush.
I looked at my phone, smirking as I muttered under my breath, "Hmm, look at how people change when other people are watching. Classic."
And just like that, I returned to my face mask, ready to face the day—frog face and all—because if I was going to win that contest, I might as well do it with style… and a little humor.
-----
My mom approached Mr. Ronson slowly, holding out a card.
"Here," she said softly, her voice calm but tinged with emotion. "This is your daughter's first-ever beauty contest, and I want you to see what I've raised — and what you've helped shape."
She lowered her glasses slightly, resting them on the tip of her nose as she handed him the card.
Mr. Ronson glanced down at it, then smirked slyly. "Finally, you're less trouble," he said with a hint of amusement. "You're ready for us to get back together."
My mom scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "Together? In your dreams. Only we will never get back together.
I gave you this because she deserves her father's cheers," she added slowly, her gaze drifting toward the door. "But of course, Mr. Ronson, only if you're free."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out, her heels clicking softly on the floor.
As the door closed behind her, Mr. Ronson smirked to himself and muttered, "Oh, May... you do care about me and your daughter. It's nice to know that."
---
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. It was me — but not really.
No makeup, no nerdy glasses, just a fresh, clean face that made me look like I'd stepped out of a beauty ad.
I looked so fabulous I could give a chef's kiss to myself.
"Wow, Nena... I look so fresh, I could be a yogurt," I whispered dramatically, trying to contain my excitement.
Nena grinned from ear to ear. "That's my skills girl! I told ya I got cha," she winked, striking a confident pose like she was a makeup artist on a runway.
I couldn't help but smile wholeheartedly. "Thanks, Nena! You're the absolute best," I squealed, throwing my arms around her in a tight hug.
She pulled back, cheeks squished between her fingers, and said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, "And guess what?"
My curiosity peaked. "What?"
She cheered, "Happy friend anniversary!" Then, dramatically pulling out a necklace with a shiny 'Best Friends' charm, she handed it to me. "Take this, wear it — it's gonna look so good on you. We're best friends forever and ever. Remember that!"
I beamed, nodding enthusiastically. "Babe, it's the cutest thing ever! Oh... I'm gonna miss you so much when I go to university," I whispered, hugging her tightly.
Nena hugged me back just as fiercely. "Thank you, Nena," I said softly.
"Anytime, Ayana," she replied with a grin. "Now go out there and conquer the world — or at least the stage.!''.