Chapter 2: The Art Of Getting Dressed

Mia shuffled towards her bathroom, leaving a Hansel and Gretel-esque trail of color changes in her wake. The fuzzy bath mat by her bed? Now an eye-searing chartreuse. The doorknob? A lovely shade of 'oh-god-why' orange. She half-expected woodland creatures to start following her, mistaking her for some sort of deranged, color-vomiting Disney princess.

"All right, Harper," she muttered, squinting at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Let's try not to turn the entire house into a Picasso painting before breakfast, shall we?"

She reached for her toothbrush, holding her breath as if that would somehow prevent the inevitable. The moment her fingers wrapped around the handle, it transformed from pristine white to a green that could only be described as 'radioactive swamp monster.'

"Fantastic. Nothing says 'fresh breath' like brushing your teeth with the Hulk's toothbrush," Mia grumbled, squeezing out a glob of toothpaste. At least that stayed white. Small mercies.

As she brushed, Mia tried to focus on controlling her power. She stared intently at the faucet, willing it to remain its original chrome color. "Don't change, don't change, don't you dare fucking change," she chanted internally, her free hand inching towards the tap.

The moment skin met metal, a wave of cerulean blue bloomed across the faucet. Mia let out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush, toothpaste foam flying everywhere.

"Oh, come on!" she spluttered, spitting into the sink. "I was focusing and everything! What does a girl have to do to keep her bathroom looking less like a preschooler's art project?"

Frustration bubbled up inside her, threatening to spill over like the toothpaste now decorating her sink. Mia took a deep breath, trying to channel her inner zen master. Or at least her inner 'slightly less pissed off' teenager.

"Okay, look," she said to her reflection, pointing her now-green toothbrush accusingly. "We've got a big day ahead of us. New school, new people, new chances to embarrass ourselves spectacularly. The least you could do is cooperate for five freaking minutes."

Her reflection stared back, unimpressed. Mia sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Right. Because talking to myself in the mirror is totally going to solve this. Next up: interpretive dance to control my powers. That'll work for sure."

As she finished up her bathroom routine, leaving behind a wake of unintentionally redecorated surfaces, Mia couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever get a handle on this so-called gift. "Control will come with time and practice," her mom always said. But how much time? And how much practice? Was there some sort of color-changing boot camp she could sign up for?

"Maybe Evergreen will have a class," Mia mused as she padded back to her bedroom. "'How Not to Turn Your Entire Life into a Living Kaleidoscope 101.' I'd ace that for sure."

Standing before her closet, Mia faced her next Herculean task: choosing an outfit that wouldn't spontaneously change colors the moment she put it on. She pulled out a plain white t-shirt, holding it at arm's length like it might bite her.

"Alright, you innocent piece of fabric," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Let's see what horrible color fate has in store for you today."

Gingerly, she slipped the shirt over her head. The moment it settled on her shoulders, a ripple of soft blue spread across the cotton. Mia looked down at herself, pleasantly surprised. "Huh. Not bad. Maybe the fashion gods are smiling upon me today."

Encouraged, she dove back into her closet, pulling out various combinations. Her room quickly became a whirlwind of changing colors, like some sort of demented fashion show. Skirts flashed from black to purple to green. Jeans cycled through more shades of blue than she knew existed. At one point, she could have sworn a sweater turned a color that didn't even have a name.

"Christ on a cracker," Mia muttered, surveying the chaos. "It looks like a rainbow threw up in here."

As she tried on outfit after outfit, Mia's mind wandered to her future classmates. Would they judge her based on her ever-changing appearance? She imagined walking into Evergreen Academy, her clothes shifting colors with every step. 

"Hey, look! It's Mia the Mood Ring!" she mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "I wonder what color she'll be by lunch?"

She shook her head, trying to banish the negative thoughts. "Come on, Harper. They're all freaks too. Well, extraordinarily ordinary freaks. Maybe they'll think it's cool. Maybe changing colors will be the new black."

Finally, after what felt like hours of playing fashion roulette with her powers, Mia settled on the soft blue shirt and a pair of denim jeans. She eyed herself critically in the mirror, turning this way and that.

"Not too shabby," she admitted. "Now if I can just keep from turning my jeans hot pink during first period, we might actually survive today."

As she gathered her things, a tiny spark of hope flickered in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she'd find her place at Evergreen. A place where changing colors wasn't a curse, but just another quirk. Where she could be herself, rainbow trail and all.

"Here's to new beginnings," Mia said, giving her reflection a mock salute. "And to hopefully not setting any new records for 'Most Outfit Changes in a Single School Day.'"