Chapter 3: Technicolor Memories and Text Message Terrors

As Mia finished fussing with her outfit, her eyes fell on a framed photo perched precariously on her disaster zone of a desk. She picked it up, careful not to change its color for the umpteenth time. The smiling faces of her family stared back at her, frozen in a moment of blissful ignorance before her life became a never-ending game of chromatic roulette.

"Ah, the good old days," Mia mused, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "When the biggest problem in the Harper household was Dad's addiction to dad jokes and Mom's obsession with organic kale."

Her gaze lingered on her younger self, all gap-toothed grin and pigtails, blissfully unaware of the chaos that lay in her future. The memory of her power's first manifestation came crashing back like an unwelcome tidal wave of technicolor embarrassment.

It had been her 13th birthday. The dining room was decked out in streamers and balloons, and the air was thick with the scent of chocolate cake and impending pubescent doom. Little Mia, overcome with excitement, had slammed her hands down on the dining table as she blew out her candles.

And then, like some cosmic practical joke, the table had turned the brightest, most obnoxious shade of hot pink imaginable.

"Happy birthday, sweetie! You're a teenager now, and oh, by the way, you can turn things into a Barbie dreamhouse with a single touch. Surprise!"

Mia snorted at the memory, shaking her head. The look on her parents' faces had been priceless – a perfect cocktail of shock, confusion, and "oh shit, what do we do now?"

"I swear, Mom looked like she was about to faint into the punch bowl," Mia muttered, tracing her finger along the edge of the frame. "And Dad... well, I think that was the first time in his life he couldn't come up with a joke."

The aftermath had been a whirlwind of hushed conversations, frantic Google searches for "my kid changes colors help," and a general sense of "what the actual fuck do we do with a human mood ring?"

Mia sighed, setting the photo back down. She knew her parents loved her, but there was no denying that her power had thrown a rainbow-colored wrench into their perfectly normal lives. The disappointment in their eyes that day still stung, even years later.

"Well, at least I'm living up to the 'extraordinary' part of Evergreen Academy," she quipped to herself, trying to shake off the melancholy. "Even if it's more 'extraordinarily annoying' than 'extraordinarily useful.'"

As if on cue, Mia's phone buzzed, yanking her from her technicolor trip down memory lane. She picked it up gingerly, silently praying it wouldn't turn into some godawful shade of puke green or radioactive yellow.

"Oh joy, it's the plant whisperer," Mia smirked, seeing Zoe's name pop up on her screen. Her best friend's message practically radiated nervous energy:

"OMG Mia! Can't believe it's our first day at Evergreen! So nervous! You?"

Mia couldn't help but grin. Leave it to Zoe to state the obvious while simultaneously understating the sheer terror of starting at Freak High.

"Total butterflies! But excited too. See you soon, plant whisperer!" Mia typed back, her thumbs flying across the screen with practiced ease.

She paused, then added: "Try not to make any trees swoon on your way to school. We can't have the environmental club falling at your feet on day one."

Hitting send, Mia flopped back onto her bed, her mind wandering to Zoe's power. The ability to communicate with plants might seem lame to some, but Mia couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy. At least Zoe's power didn't leave a trail of chaos in its wake.

"I bet she never has to worry about accidentally turning her textbooks into a rainbow nightmare," Mia grumbled. "Or explaining to her mom why the kitchen looks like a unicorn sneezed all over it."

Still, there was comfort in knowing she wouldn't be facing this new adventure alone. Zoe had been by her side since the great hot pink table incident, never once flinching at Mia's constantly changing appearance or the occasional accidental redecorating of her room.

"Maybe between my walking art project and her conversations with daisies, we'll manage to carve out a place for ourselves at Evergreen," Mia mused, allowing herself a moment of optimism. "Who knows? Our powers combined might make us the ultimate weird girl dream team."

As she lay there, staring at the kaleidoscope that was her ceiling, Mia felt a strange mix of dread and excitement bubbling in her stomach. Sure, Evergreen Academy might be a freak show, but at least it would be her freak show. A place where changing colors or chatting up chrysanthemums might actually be considered cool.

"Or, you know, we'll crash and burn spectacularly," Mia snorted, ever the realist. "But hey, at least we'll do it in style. Very colorful, constantly changing style."