"Nice work, Tia!" a classmate called out as the lecture ended. Suddenly, a small crowd swarmed her, offering genuine praise for her article.
From the back of the room, Michael watched, his scowl deepening. He was the one who usually commanded the room's attention. Seeing half the class flock to Tia made his skin crawl with a restless, uncomfortable energy. He turned his frustration toward the easiest target.
"You gave me a script that wasn't even edited properly," he said, his voice dropping into a cold, accusatory register.
Stella flinched, her voice small. "I'm sorry. I was in a rush... I didn't think to double-check."
"How could you be so careless?" Michael snapped.
"Enough, Michael," Marcus interrupted, his voice firm. "Be grateful for once. She stepped up and helped you with an assignment you couldn't be bothered to do yourself. Blaming her for it not being 'perfect' is a low move, bro."
The logic hit Michael like a cold splash of water. He softened, offering a muttered apology that Stella was all too quick to accept. As the three of them sat in a stifling silence, watching Tia's circle of admirers, Michael felt a sudden, gnawing hunger.
"Let's go to the cafeteria," he muttered. The trio stood and retreated, and Michael was unable to bear the sight of Tia's success any longer.
Once the crowd dispersed, Tia looked down at her drab, oversized clothes and sighed. "I really need a change," she whispered. She didn't head for the dorms. Instead, she walked off campus and hailed a cab, giving the driver the address of a high-end salon in the city.
The scent of premium shampoo and expensive floral oils greeted her as she stepped inside. The salon was buzzing, but the moment her favorite stylist spotted her, she excused herself from a client.
Tia!" she cried, pulling her into a quick hug.
"I need a look that's... not this," Tia said, tugging at her dull, lifeless strands. "And I need it today."
"Don't you worry. Take a seat in the lounge; I'll be with you the second I finish here."
Tia flipped through a fashion magazine, her eyes landing on a model with a bold, elegant bob. It was sophisticated, sharp, and mature—everything the old Tia wasn't. When it was her turn, she pointed to the photo. The stylist didn't hesitate, her scissors dancing through Tia's hair until a new woman emerged in the mirror.
After the salon, she hit the boutiques. She bypassed the baggy sweaters for tailored pieces that didn't hide her figure. She changed in the dressing room, staring at her reflection. She was done being an invisible ghost. She was going to live every second of her college life with her head held high.
When Tia walked back into the residence halls, the atmosphere shifted. Necks craned and conversations died. Some girls whispered compliments about her sharp hair and chic outfit; others just watched with narrowed, jealous eyes.
Inside the dorm, Clara was buried in a textbook. Tia entered backward, struggling with several heavy shopping bags.
"Um... can I help you? Who are you?" Clara asked, peering at the stranger.
Tia turned around with a mischievous grin. "It's me."
Clara dropped her book, her jaw hitting the floor. "Tia? You look... incredible!" She stood up, reaching out to touch the sleek ends of Tia's hair.
"Thank you." Tia dropped her bags and immediately began purging her wardrobe. She stuffed her old, shapeless clothes into a box, replacing them with the new, vibrant pieces.
"What are you doing with the old stuff?" Clara asked.
"Charity," Tia giggled. "I'm never going back to that version of me."
A loud, traitorous growl erupted from Tia's stomach when she was done with the clothes. "Okay, time for food. Do you want to come along?"
Clara shook her head regretfully. "I really have to finish this chapter, and I just ate. Go on, without me."
The cafeteria went dead silent the moment Tia stepped through the doors. She could hear the faint click of phone cameras, but she didn't care. She felt beautiful, and she didn't mind being watched.
At a central table, Michael, Marcus, and Stella paused their conversation.
"Who is that?" Michael asked, squinting to catch a glimpse of the girl's face.
Marcus's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Wait a minute... that's Tia. She looks... totally different."
"That's impossible," Stella scoffed, her heart sinking. "Are you sure?"
"Why don't you go see for yourself?" Marcus challenged.
Stella stood up, smoothing her dress before intercepting Tia. "Hello," she said, trying to sound casual. When Tia turned, Stella froze. She scanned Tia from head to toe, her mind screaming in denial.
"What are you doing? Stalking me?" Tia asked, her voice low and bored.
"No! I'm just having lunch with Michael and Marcus. You know, Michael really sees me as a partner now since I helped him with the assignment. I know you wouldn't understand that feeling... since he never really looked your way," Stella added with a poisonous little smile.
Tia just offered a thin, pitying grin. "I see. You must be so lucky to be his 'friend.'"
"So it is you. Why on earth did you change your look?"
"I wanted a makeover. I decided it was time to match my outside to how I feel inside."
Jealousy flared in Stella's chest. For years, she had been the 'pretty friend' while Tia was the 'plain' one. If Tia kept looking like this, Stella's reign was over.
"This look doesn't suit you," Stella tried to discourage tia, and her voice was dripping with fake concern. "It's a bit much."
"Then why is everyone staring at me like I just took the throne?"
Stella sighed. "Don't you get it, Tia? They're staring because you look ridiculous. Your old look was much better."
Tia felt a flash of anger, but she quenched it with a cold smile. "As long as I love what I see in the mirror, I'm satisfied. I don't need your approval, Stella. And I don't need anyone's."
She brushed past her to order her food. When Stella returned to the table, the boys were still talking about Tia.
"You can never predict a girl," Marcus was saying. "This morning she was one person, and now she's... wow."
Michael scoffed, though his eyes kept wandering back to the girl at the counter. "I'm sure she did it to impress me, like always. There's nothing special about it." But deep down, his pulse was racing. He had never realized Tia had such a stunning figure or such striking eyes.
"I agree with Michael," Stella chimed in quickly. "The look is very odd. It doesn't fit her at all."
Marcus looked at Stella, surprised by the venom in her voice toward her "best friend," but he stayed silent.
Tia sat down with her tray, savoring every bite of her meal. She felt like she had stepped into a whole new world—one where she wasn't a nerd, a doormat, or a ghost. She took a few selfies, documenting the woman she had become. She was no longer waiting for a boy to notice her because she was too busy noticing herself.