It was a fine, beautiful morning—the kind where the sun beams down like it's trying to blind you, the birds chirp like they're auditioning for The Voice, and honestly, I'd rather be anywhere else.

I was sitting peacefully in my house's compound, sipping tea—or at least trying to—when a stupid bird decided it was a great idea to turn into my personal stalker.

It kept swooping down, probably plotting to steal my lunch or my soul.

I was holding my book, trying to focus, but my round brown glasses kept slipping down my nose like they were trying to escape.

I kept pushing them back up, muttering under my breath, "Come on, glasses, stay in your lane." Then—bam!—they slid again.

I sighed like I was auditioning for a soap opera and adjusted them with a dramatic flair.

My blonde hair was tied in two playful ponytails, strands curling around my face like they were part of a wild, untamed jungle.

It was just a casual day—because who needs fancy when you've got a bird that's auditioning for Ninja Bird: The Silent Strike?

Suddenly, my mom's voice cut through the peaceful morning like a missile: "Ayana!!"

My heart did a somersault so big I thought it might jump out of my chest.

For a second, I thought I'd gotten into trouble—maybe I'd accidentally set the house on fire or eaten her secret stash of cookies.

But no, I looked up and saw her sitting on the couch, her black hair tied in a messy mom bun, her smile warm but with a hint of "Brace yourself, I've got news."

"Yes, Mom. Someone from Mars could hear you shouting my name," I said, plopping down on the couch across from her like a defeated hero.

She just smiled like she was about to drop some life-changing news. The kind that makes you want to either scream or faint.

"What is it, Mom?" I asked, already feeling a mix of curiosity and dread—like waiting for a surprise exam.

She nodded, clearly excited. "Great news! Your brother is gonna to be going to the same school as you now!"

My jaw hit the floor faster than I could process it. "WHAT?! Why?"

She shrugged casually, like she was ordering a coffee. "Because his friends transferred to that school, so he wants to go too."

Great. Just what I needed—a new roommate in my personal universe of awkwardness. And guess who's the star? Mr. I-Can-Beat-Anyone-In-Anything himself.

I rolled my eyes so hard I was convinced they might stay stuck that way.

"How will you afford that? Our school fees are basically rent on a small island," I said, voice full of disbelief and frustration.

She waved her hand dismissively.

"Do you mind? We can manage. We're not exactly broke—we're middle class! And I want what's best for you and him. That way, he can protect you."

Inner thoughts: Protect me? From what? His terrible taste in music? His inability to find his socks? Or from the monster under my bed? or maybe from himself.

Yeah, no. The idea of having my "great protector" brother in the same school? That was like giving a lion a lamb and expecting it to be gentle.

I couldn't take it anymore. I shot up from the couch, dramatically grabbed my book, and bolted to my room faster than a squirrel on energy drinks.

I closed the door with a bang, then flopped onto my bed like a fish out of water.

I started swinging my arms and legs around wildly, crying out of frustration.

"Bloody brother," I shouted into my pillow. "Now my school life will be a total nightmare!"

Then I added, voice rising in melodramatic despair:

"Everyone—even though I'm pretty cute and totally invisible in that school—will now think I'm an ugly goat compared to him. I'll be living in his shadow, and honestly, I might as well get a cape and call myself 'Shadow Queen' or something."

And the thought of everyone comparing me to him, even in my own mind, was enough to make me want to hide under the bed forever.

Inner thought: Great. Just brilliant. Now I'll be the invisible goat in the background, trying to avoid his shadow like it's some kind of monster from a horror movie.

Suddenly, I heard a loud thud from the hallway.

My brother—Mr. "I'm-Too-Cool-For-Everything"—had apparently just fallen down the stairs again, judging by the loud groan and the thumping sound.

I rolled my eyes and muttered,

"Yep, that's my super protector for you. I'll be safe… as long as he doesn't accidentally set the school on fire."

As I lay there, contemplating my tragic fate, I couldn't help but laugh softly at the absurdity of it all.

Because, honestly, if I didn't laugh, I'd cry—and I'd rather save my tears for trying to figure out how to survive the new school year with a brother who's basically a walking disaster.

-------------

But then I remembered my best friend, Nena. Well, not exactly "around," because she's more like my online best friend—kind of like a digital fairy godmother who's never seen me in real life but still knows all my secrets.

We have so much in common that it's almost suspicious.

Even our last names are similar—her middle name is nicer than my own (probably because it's fancy, unlike my boring old first name).

We've never seen each other face-to-face, only talked on the phone and texted like two secret agents exchanging messages in the dead of night.

Honestly, I prefer texting. Talking is just so tiring—like running a marathon, but with words. Yeah, I know—lazy. But don't judge.

She's in Japan, I'm in London, and somehow, despite the distance, she always manages to be the voice of reason—or at least, the voice that laughs at my misery.

When I remembered her, I quickly grabbed my phone and typed, "Hi, free to chat?"

Almost immediately, she replied, "Sure! Let's do it."

Before I could say "Hi," she called me. Typical Nena—always straight to the important stuff.

I poured out my story like a dramatic soap opera: about the betrayal of my beloved brother being shoehorned into my school (cue the ominous music), and how a bird had decided my morning was its personal stage to perform ninja attacks.

I told her about how I was trying to read peacefully while this feathered ninja kept swooping at my face.

Nena just burst out laughing, her voice bubbling with amusement.

"Girl, you need to man up! Or woman up, I guess," she said, chuckling.

"If a bird's disturbing your peace, just tell it to take a hike. Or better yet, train it—become the bird whisperer, and then you'll rule the skies!"

I snorted, feeling a little better already.

"Yeah, maybe I should get a bird-sized karate outfit," I joked. "Then I'll train it to do my homework or fetch my snacks."

She giggled again. "See? Everything will be okay. You just gotta be strong. You're tougher than that bird—and definitely more fashionable than it."

I leaned back, feeling positive, like I'd just been handed a secret weapon: humor.

Because if I didn't laugh at the absurdity of my life, I'd cry, and honestly, I'd rather laugh until I snort milk out of my nose.

"Thanks, Nena," I said, smiling. "You're the best. Even if you're just a pixelated hero in my life."

She replied, "Anytime, sis. Remember: you're more than your brother's shadow. You're the star of your own show—just make sure the bird doesn't steal the spotlight!"

And I laughed, feeling a little more ready to face the chaos—because if a bird can't ruin my morning, then maybe, just maybe, I can survive my new school life too.

Another day, another misery. I stood in front of Mystic Heights Academy, a school so rich, even the walls probably had a trust fund.

I mean, it looked like the place was built with gold bricks—glittering windows, perfectly manicured lawns that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, and a fountain that looked like it belonged in a palace.

Honestly, I kept asking myself, how do my parents afford this? Maybe they found a treasure chest or struck oil—either way, I wasn't complaining. Well, not loudly, anyway.

I was dressed in my "nerd-chic" outfit—think thick-rimmed glasses, a very important-looking cardigan with elbow patches (because I'm serious about my books), and a plaid skirt that looked like I was ready to join a Hogwarts house.

My shoes? Comfy sneakers that had seen better days but still ran faster than my mood.

My blonde hair was tied in two messy ponytails, strands curling around my small, cute face like they were trying to steal the spotlight.

You know, the usual "I woke up like this" look, but secretly I'd spent ten minutes fixing it. I adjusted my glasses, which perched precariously on my nose—probably plotting to slide down again.

As I stepped inside the school, my heart... actually, I felt nothing.

Yep, nothing.

I was already invisible—like a ghost with NO fashion sense—so no one noticed me.

I just quietly slipped in, trying to avoid the gaze of anyone who might mistake me for a piece of furniture.

I headed straight for my locker, feeling like a ninja on a secret mission.

But of course, my admirers had left me a little gift.

I saw a crumpled piece of paper taped to my locker with the words "Ugly Snort" scribbled in childish handwriting.

I groaned loudly, yanking it off like I was ripping off a bad band-aid.

Honestly, it wasn't anything new. Kids were basically professional bullies at this point.

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Oh, look, a new masterpiece,

" I muttered, annoyed. "Because that's exactly what I needed today—more insults from the universe."

I opened my locker, and on the inside, AHH it was my sanctuary.

Plushies of all shapes and sizes—pink unicorns, squishy cats, even a tiny dinosaur that looked suspiciously like it was about to eat my homework—created a cozy fortress.

I sighed happily, a small smile creeping onto my face.

But then I saw it—a sticker of my favorite T-pop group, BUS.

My heart did a little happy dance. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then started singing my ultimate favorite song at the top of my lungs:

"It's just a lie, oh liar... la ah ah ah liar..."

Yeah, I don't really sing.

I just pretend I'm auditioning for The Voice in my head.

But at high pitch, I sounded like a dying cat being strangled, so I quickly coughed and tossed the sticker back into my locker like it was a fire hazard.

I fidgeted with my hair, straightening the little strands that refused to obey, then adjusted my eco-friendly bag—because saving the planet is important, even if no one notices.

With a deep breath, I swung my locker shut, feeling like I'd just survived a small war.

I took a step forward, trying to look confident, but really, I was just walking to class like a ninja in stealth mode—silent, unseen, and slightly embarrassed.

And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.

------

As I was sitting in class, trying to survive the chaos—because honestly, a typical day in my classroom is like a circus gone wild.

The "Mean Girl Group" plotting their next gossip attack, the "Rich Athletes" throwing paper footballs across the room like they're in the NBA finals, and the "Goth Kids" sitting all dark and mysterious, probably planning to summon a storm or cast spells, I don't know. There are so many groups,

I swear if I tried to join one, they'd chase me out faster than I run from my math homework.

Of course, there's the "Bad and Popular Rich Boys." As soon as I mentioned their name, they swooped in like they owned the place—probably because they do.

Let me introduce you to them:

The Smart One or should I say Brainy

Mark. He's always the smartest kid in the room, with perfect styled black hair that seems to roll down onto his nose like a wave, and glasses that fit him so well, I think they were made just for him.

Girls would do anything to get him to tutor them—if only they knew he'd rather be anywhere else.

The Playful One

Liam. The crazy, mischievous, definitely a playboy. Blond hair, a mischievous smile, and a cute, heart-shaped birthmark that I swear is his signature move for breaking hearts. Honestly, I think his charm is more powerful than his muscles.

 And of course my Brother is one of them the stupid jerk

Jake. The fighter, the troublemaker—yet somehow, he always wins.

He's got an athletic body, a sharp jawline, and smooth skin. His hair is a little pointy—like he's been electrocuted, not straight like everyone else.

Sometimes I wonder if he's part cat because he always lands on his feet.

The Cold Guy or the one who's always proud of himself

Ethan. The brooding, mysterious one who carries himself with grace. Handsome, with black silky hair framing his face, and eyes that could freeze water.

He always has his hands in his pockets, watching everyone with that stern look, like he's judging whether your shoes match your attitude.

His eyes landed on me once, and we locked eyes—well, I quickly looked away, not blushing, just trying not to catch his attention.

Just like I always do—blend into the background.

Meanwhile, my stupid annoying brother was pushing the others aside, probably ready to start a fight, while the playboy was already making his move.

Mark was busy accepting tutoring requests from the girls, and I sat there trying to be invisible—because that's my superpower. And guess what? It always works.

The girls were swooning over the boys, and I was just hoping I wouldn't get caught in their orbit.

Then, just as I was about to disappear into my chair, the teacher barged in—like a hero arriving late to save the day—and started the lesson.

And I sank lower into my seat, praying I wouldn't be the next victim of teenage chaos—or my brother's latest trouble.

I was sitting there, trying to push a stray strand of hair behind my ear, when my brother shot me a look that could freeze lava.

He calls me a "goat"—like I look like some mountain-climbing, grass-eating animal. Do I look like a goat? Honestly, I think I'm cuter than him.

Just because he's got an athletic body—even though he's not all that bulky—he thinks he's some kind of sports star or some shit.

Yeah, I wasn't exactly looking forward to him talking to me.

He just glanced my way, gave me this disgusted look—as if I'd just insulted his favorite team or something.

Maybe it was because of my clothes? I mean, how the heck did he even end up in that 'cool' group of sports guys when we're not even that rich? Like, I swear, I'm just a regular girl trying to survive high school, not some fashion icon or part of the royal family.

I sighed a long, annoyed sigh—like a steam engine ready to blow—because dealing with him is always a headache.

I mean, seriously, how does he even fit in with those guys? I don't get it.

Maybe they think he's 'cool' because he's loud, or because he throws a good punch or something.

Whatever. I just leaned back in my chair, trying to ignore his judging stare, hoping he'd forget I was even here.

So, at lunch, I ordered my usual—let's call it a mega cheesy burger—and sneaked to the back of the school, trying to hide like a ninja. I was just about to take a big bite when—bam!—someone snatched my food right out of my hands.

"Hey!" I shouted, jumping off the ground and sprinting after whoever dared steal my lunch.

When I finally caught up, I saw who it was.

Oh boy.

It was my big, annoying brother.

Before I could do anything, he shoved a huge bite into his mouth and then, just for fun, threw the rest of my food on me like it was some kind of snack.

I looked at him, totally annoyed, and asked, "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

He just smirked, that sneaky, 'I-just-ruined-your-day' look on his face.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said sarcastically.

"I wouldn't want anyone to see me with a goat.''

A GOAT? Seriously? I'm the cutest kid in the world—thanks to Mom's genes—and he's calling me a goat? Wow. Thanks, bro.

"Yeah, well, take this," I snapped, punching him right in the stomach. He winced, clutching his tummy like I'd just performed a miracle.

Yeah, that'll teach him not to mess with me.

I grabbed what was left of my lunch, dusted myself off, and tried to walk away coolly. But I couldn't resist glancing back.

And there he was, still wearing that annoying smirk, like he just won a prize.

Suddenly, I bumped into someone and—oops!—my tray dropped on the ground with a loud crash.

When I looked up, I saw Mark—tall, handsome, and looking down at me like I was some kind of cute little bug.

He adjusted his glasses, and I swear I turned into a statue.

What was I doing? Bowing? Was I about to kiss his shoes? Nope! I quickly stood up straight, trying to act normal.

"Uh, I'm sorry," I mumbled, hoping nobody saw how awkward I was.

I didn't want any trouble, so I decided to just walk away. But nooo, my brother had other plans.

Out of nowhere, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back with the strength of a gorilla.

"This is the ugly goat I was telling you about—my sister Ayana," he announced loudly, like he was introducing me to the world. Thanks for that, Jake.

''Nice to meet you Ayana'' Mark said, and hearing my name from his mouth made my heart skipped a bit, But I shook my head. That wasn't in the plan.

Mark, the tall, dreamy guy, smirked even more and stretched his arm toward me like he was about to shake hands.

I just brushed Jake's hand off my and walked away, leaving Mark's hand hanging there, Honestly I didn't noticed him, but I am glad I didn't it would have been trouble.

And so, I walked away, my lunch tray forgotten on the floor, my brother still grinning like he'd just won some weird trophy, and Mark just standing there, probably thinking I was the cutest, most awkward girl in school.

Yeah, today was definitely "the goat's" day.

-----

After all the hoopla at school—my food fight, meeting Mark, and my brother's latest antics—I finally made it home. I flopped onto the couch like a fish out of water, swung my bag aside, and tossed my shoe in some random direction. Honestly, I had no idea where it landed.

All I wanted was a moment of peace.

Just as I was about to drift into dreamland, I heard my mom's voice booming from the kitchen.

"Ayana! Come and help me with dinner!"

Ugh. I just got back from school, and all I wanted was to rest. But nope, apparently, resting was a crime in this house.

"Coming, Mom!" I called back, trying not to sound too exhausted. I didn't want to be chased around with a cloth hanger like some kind of wild animal.

I dragged myself to the kitchen, which isn't very big but feels like a tiny palace filled with love—at least that's what I tell myself.

Maybe I was talking too much to myself because suddenly, my bloody brother showed up.

"Hi, Mom," he said casually, pulling out a bottle of water from the fridge like he was on some kind of TV commercial.

My mom smiled at him and said, "Hi, son. How was school?"

Wait. She didn't ask me that. Nope, just him. I rolled my eyes.

"School was closed an hour ago," I said with a fake smile. "Why are you here now?"

He just sneered and replied, "I got into a fight. What's your problem?"

I was about to explode. But before I could, Mom gently tapped his shoulder and said, "Oh, my son, always getting into trouble."

He winced at that, smirked at me like he just won some prize, and then ran off like he was escaping the law. Honestly, I didn't care.

I turned to Mom, crossing my arms. "Why does he get to sit around and play while I always have to work?" I asked, trying to sound annoyed but honestly feeling a little tired.

She just smiled softly, her tone becoming more serious. "Because I want you to survive when you are on your own, and not depend on anyone. Just like I depended on your dad and then he left us."

Ugh.

That hit me hard.

Dad left with all our money and went off with another woman. Mom was always busy taking care of the house, probably wondering when her life would get better.

I didn't know exactly when they divorced—must've been when I was five—but I felt that ache in my chest every time I thought about it.

I forced a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Sorry, forget I asked," I said softly, laughing a little to hide my feelings.

"What's for dinner?" I asked, changing the subject quickly.

Mom smiled again, her eyes soft with love. "Your favorite—fried rice and chicken," she said.

I nodded gratefully even though it's what we ate for three days this week I am glad we're happy together.

Despite everything, I was lucky to have her. And maybe, just maybe, dinner would help me forget the chaos of the day.

--------------

Okay, so here's the thing about my dad. Honestly, I'm not 100% sure he left us because of some woman.

But come on—why not? It just seems… too weird. Like, one day he was there, and the next, poof! Gone with a new girl.

And I'm sitting here, thinking, Did he really leave for her? Or maybe he just decided he was tired of our family sitcom and hit the escape button. Whatever.

It's honestly so strange and annoying. I hate when my brain starts doing that deep thinking—like I'm some kind of detective trying to find clues.

And then I start talking to myself, because, well, who else is going to listen?

"Why did Dad leave? Was it because of that woman? Or did he just get bored of us? Maybe he found a new hobby—like bird-watching or golf. Or maybe he just ran out of excuses and thought, 'Meh, I'll just disappear!'"

Meanwhile, Jake always keeps eyeing me like I'm some kind of crazy monkey. I swear one day I will poke his eyes.

And honestly, he might be right. He's got Dad's good looks—sharp jaw, fit body, the kind of guy girls swoon over.

Meanwhile, I got Mom's small face (which I swear is adorable), and somehow I have blonde hair? Yeah, I know. I'm a walking contradiction—like a weird mix of a Barbie doll and a banana.

And let's not forget my "coca-cola" body—small, cute, fragile, but still awesome. I mean, who needs to be a supermodel? I'm just trying to survive and look good doing it.

And you know what? Ugly monkey, my foot.

I may not be perfect, but I'm definitely not ugly. I'm just a little… quirky. Like a rare Pokémon—hard to catch, but totally worth it.