The girl I forgot

I woke up before my alarm. Again. That’s how I knew today wasn’t going to be just another day. Because usually, I need three alarms, a threat from my mum, and the smell of fried plantain drifting from the kitchen before I even open one eye. But not today. Today is the first day of my second year in high school, and everything feels... different. Not dramatic-movie different, just quietly, personally different. Like the soft kind of excitement you can’t quite explain, but you know something’s shifting in the air. But something about the start of second year had me wired with excitement, like the air itself was buzzing with possibility. I sat up, stretched my arms like a cartoon character, and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. Then I reached for my journal...yes, I’m a journal girl—and scribbled this down: “Don’t let anyone dim your light this year. Shine, even if it blinds them.” I don’t know why, but something about the start of a new school year always makes me feel like the main character in a coming-of-age movie. Like, maybe this is the chapter where everything changes. Corny? Maybe. But it felt right. The house was still quiet. I tiptoed to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and stared at my reflection with sleepy determination. “Let’s not embarrass ourselves this year, okay?” I told my reflection, lightly patting my cheeks. “Let’s be chill. Confident. Glowing.” I don’t know when I became obsessed with glowing, but I like the idea of it. Not just in the shiny-skinned, lip-glossed way. I mean glowing from the inside, like being so at peace with who you are that people can’t help but feel it when you walk in the room. I’m going to be so organized this time,” I mumbled, brushing my edges with the dedication of someone going to a red carpet event instead of a classroom filled with half-asleep teenagers. I laid out my uniform last night like some sort of fashion influencer prepping for a shoot. Crisp white blouse. Navy blue skirt, freshly ironed (I did it myself, miracles do happen). My ID card with my name printed all neat: "Nia Quinn" Just seeing it made me smile. That’s me. That’s my name. And this year, I want to own it. I sprayed a light mist of vanilla perfume, dabbed on some lip balm, and added the finishing touch, my gold earrings, the small hoops Mum got me for my birthday. Not too flashy, just enough to say, Yes, I made an effort My goals this year? — Get better at math without crying. — Actually raise my hand in class. — Stop stalking Kai with my eyes like a creep (Maybe.) — Start my art journal again. I mean it this time. — Don’t lose myself. Be Nia, and stay Nia. I know that last one sounds dramatic, but you won’t understand unless you've liked someone for years and still manage to make a fool of yourself every single time you see them I zipped up my backpack, tossed in my sketchpad, and paused. My heart thudded in that weird, hopeful way it always did at the start of something. I didn’t know what this year would hold. I didn’t know who I’d sit next to, or whether Kai would look at me like I was more than just the quiet girl with the doodles in her notebook. But I knew one thing: I was ready to find out. Downstairs, the smell of yam and egg sauce greeted me like a hug. I sat at the table, half-listening to Mum's usual “don’t forget your water bottle” and “no gossiping in school” speech, but my mind was already in the future—already inside the school gates. I couldn’t stop wondering about how things would be. Would our class still sit in that hot, echo-y room with the broken fan in the corner? Would I still sit next to jasmine? Would Kai still walk in like the world was his runway? Kai. My stomach did that stupid little flip again. The flip it’s been doing since middle school, even though I’ve never actually told him how I feel. I’ve liked him for so long that sometimes I wonder if I even know why. Maybe it’s the way he laughs like he’s never worried about anything. Or how he always smells like woodsy cologne and mint. Or the way he scrunches his nose when he’s thinking. Ugh. I know. I know. It’s not like he’s ever noticed me. Not properly. Sure, we’ve exchanged a few “Can I borrow your pen?” moments and once, just once...he complimented my art during Fine Art class. I held onto that compliment like it was a Grammy. But this year, I don’t just want to like someone from a distance. I want to be brave. Bold. Maybe even talk to him without turning into a puddle of awkward giggles and unfinished sentences. Maybe this will be the year he sees me. Really sees me. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll see myself more clearly—and realize that being Nia is already enough. I slung my bag over my shoulder, hugged Mum goodbye, and stepped out into the morning sun. A new term. A new chance. A blank page waiting to be painted with whatever came next. Whatever it is, I’m ready. . “Keep an open mind; it’s the only way new things can get in.” Colleen Hoover