GEOGRAPHY OF COLOR: PINK

I slumped in my chair, my eyes glazing over as Mr. Oswald droned on about the earth's oblate spheroid shape and the wonders of plate tectonics. Geography had never been my thing, but lately, it seemed like a never-ending snooze fest. I mean, come on, how many times could we discuss the same old rocks and landforms?

I turned around, scanning the classroom for a distraction, and noticed that Kevin was absent, as usual. My gaze landed on Ming Lee, who was surreptitiously scrolling through his phone beneath the table. His tie was loose, hanging carelessly around his neck like a limp noodle, and his white shirt was slightly rumpled. But despite his disheveled appearance, he looked ridiculously attractive. His new two-block haircut, a stylish departure from his previous permed mullet, framed his face perfectly, accentuating his sharp cheekbones and piercing brown eyes. He was the epitome of Korean beauty, and it was no secret that all the girls in class had a major crush on him.

But Ming Lee seemed oblivious to his own charm, his nonchalant attitude only adding to his allure. He was always a bit disheveled, like he'd just rolled out of bed and stumbled into class, but somehow, it worked for him. The only problem was, he seemed completely unaware of his own hotness. I found myself wondering, dude, put your shit together, do you even know how attractive you are? It was like he was hiding his light under a bushel, and it was both frustrating and fascinating to watch.

I shook my head, letting out a slow, exasperated sigh as I counted down the minutes until lunchtime. Not that I was hungry - I hadn't eaten breakfast, but food was the last thing on my mind. I was just tired, tired of Mr. Oswald's droning voice, tired of his tedious lecture, and tired of his attempts to make geography interesting.

But things had taken a turn for the worse. Mr. Oswald's lecture had somehow transitioned from the fascinating world of rocks and precious stones to his own personal life, specifically, how he proposed to his ex in Santorini with a solid diamond ring. I mean, who does that? And to make matters worse, the sad chick had said no. I couldn't blame her, really. I mean, have you seen Mr. Oswald? He's like a human version of the Grinch, but without the charm.

His bald head glistened under the fluorescent lights, and his pot belly jiggled with each movement, like a swimming pool for three fetuses, as I had aptly put it. His crowded teeth and broad nose made his face look like a jigsaw puzzle that had been put together by a toddler. It was like he was trying to be ugly, and succeeding spectacularly. Some people are truly meant to die single, and Mr. Oswald was definitely one of them. I couldn't help but think that he should just stick to teaching, and leave the romance to the rom-coms.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of another grueling class, I reluctantly stuffed my books into my bag and slung it over my shoulders. I stepped into the hallway, feeling like a ship without a rudder, with no destination in particular. For some reason, I preferred my empty, soulless house over this chaotic school. At least at home, I could wallow in my own misery without an audience.

As I turned a corner, Fiona suddenly popped out from nowhere, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and let out a loud "Boo!" I jumped, my heart racing, and was about to unleash a fiery retort when my eyes landed on her hair. It was no longer the familiar blonde I was used to; instead, it was a vibrant, electric pink that made her look like a human cotton candy. My anger melted away, replaced by shock and amusement. I burst out laughing, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "Oh man, Fiona, what have you done?!" I wheezed, holding my sides.

Fiona and I were in the same grade, but thankfully, we were in different classes. If we had been stuck together, it would have been a disaster. She was a human motor mouth, always chatting, always laughing, while I was more of a extroverted introvert despite our differences, we clicked.

Fiona ran her fingers through her now-thin pink hair, a proud smile spreading across her face. "What do you think?" she asked expectantly, her eyes shining with excitement. I grinned, still chuckling. "Seriously, I cannot lie, Fiona. You look...hideous!" I exclaimed, laughing even harder. "Who did this to you? Go get a refund, man!"

She gasped, her eyes widening in mock horror, "Horrible, really?" "Absolutely!" I confirmed, nodding my head for emphasis. We both burst out laughing and began to walk to the cafeteria, our footsteps echoing down the hallway. We grabbed a table by the window, sitting down facing each other, and I couldn't help but stare at her pink hair, still trying to process the transformation.

"Fiona," I said, adopting a more serious tone, trying to sound concerned. "Don't tell me you didn't know mirrors existed?" I raised an eyebrow, teasing her. She playfully put her hand out to hit my shoulder, but I caught it mid-air, knowing her too well. Hitting me was her go-to move whenever she got upset - an annoying but lovable habit. She struggled in my grasp, trying to wriggle free, but finally gave up, pouting at me.

"Oh, I hate you!" She scowled, her face inches from mine, her breath tickling my nose. "And I love you!" I laughed, feeling too good, still holding her hand. I moved closer, my voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Fiona, you're a blondie, through and through! And unfortunately, your brows are too!" I enunciated very slowly, milking the moment. "But you went ahead and dyed only your hair, why not your brows too? Talk about an albino Barbie!" I laughed hard, unable to contain myself.

Fiona's face turned beet red, her eyes flashing with anger. "Chester!" She fumed, her voice low and menacing, trying to sound intimidating, but I knew she was just pretending. I laughed even harder, enjoying the banter.

"Okay, okay, sorry, just chill," I said, holding up my left hand in surrender, and turned to Nathan, who was sitting across the cafeteria, clearly entertained by the scene unfolding before him. He was trying to stifle a laugh, but his eyes betrayed him, sparkling with amusement. "You see, no one even notices," I said, smiling smugly, and finally released Fiona's hand from my grasp.

Fiona rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "Nathan's such an asshole." She turned to me, her expression serious, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "So, Chester, I heard what's been going on." I knew exactly what she was referring to - my parents' messy divorce. I didn't want to go there, not now, not ever. I came to school to escape all that drama.

I reached out my hand, palm up, and proposed a truce. "You don't talk about my parents, and I don't tease your pink Barbie hair. Deal?" I asked, forcing a smile onto my face. Fiona hesitated, her eyes filled with pity, and I could tell she was itching to dive into the juicy gossip.

"Ew, Fiona, don't give me that look!" I warned, my tone light but firm. "Hey, don't worry about me, I'm fine. Their divorce, not mine, right?" I said, trying not to sound as concerned as I actually was.

Fiona's expression softened, and she finally took my hand, sealing the deal. "Deal," she whispered, her pink hair bobbing up and down as she nodded.

We continued to chat and laugh, our conversation flowing effortlessly, like a gentle stream meandering through a sun-drenched meadow. It felt incredibly good, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and for the first time since the wish, I felt truly happy. The warmth of the cafeteria, the aroma of freshly baked pies, and the sound of lively chatter all blended together to create a sense of belonging, of being part of something bigger than myself.

As we talked, I noticed Kimberly Hart walking towards us, her long, brown hair bouncing with each step. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a flutter in my chest. But something was off. Her eyes, usually bright and sparkling like diamonds, looked dull and lifeless, like two empty wells. Her usual confident stride was replaced by a hesitant, fragile gait, and her shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the world rested on them. She looked small, vulnerable, and almost...pathetic.

As she approached our table, Fiona rolled her eyes and scrunched up her face in distaste. "Oh, just great!" she muttered, her tone sarcastic. I could sense her annoyance and frustration. Kimberly's presence seemed to suck the air out of the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence.