Adalynn & Parker || Marcella Rose

Chapter Six

Little Badass

I was jolted awake the moment my alarm blared, the sound tearing through the silence from the early dawn. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I forced myself upright, the cold air from outside my comforter sending a shiver through me. I'd set the alarm for an hour earlier than usual—there was no time to waste. The diner wasn't even open yet and quiet. Today was the day. And I needed to look perfect.

I was dressing for revenge.

I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water melt away any lingering sleep. I scrubbed every inch of my skin with my favorite body wash—gourmand vanilla cake, the scent rich and indulgent, wrapping around me like a comforting hug. It felt good, familiar, like a piece of myself I hadn't visited in a while. I followed with my usual skincare routine, one I hadn't touched in what felt like forever, and my skin definitely noticed. Each step felt like I was reawakening parts of me that had been neglected for too long. I also brushed my pearly whites, nobody likes stinky breath.

A distant memory surfaced as I toweled off, one of my mom gently brushing my hair, her fingers working it into a loose braid. I could still hear her voice, soft but firm as she said, "If you don't look good, you won't feel good." It was one of those things she'd repeat when I needed a little confidence boost, like it was some kind of magic spell. Today, I was channeling that energy, her words echoing in my mind as I moved on to the next step of my routine. I miss you so much mom. You would have the right words if you were here.

I sat at my beauty table and flicked on the light, the soft glow making my reflection seem almost unfamiliar. It had been so long since I'd taken the time to do this—my hair, my makeup, the whole thing. But today felt different, like it called for a version of me I hadn't seen in a while.

I blow-dried my hair, watching it slowly transform from damp strands into something more polished. With practiced hands, I bubble-braided a halo, the loops framing my face while I curled the rest of my hair, letting the soft waves fall around my shoulders.

Next was my makeup. I started with a light layer of BB cream, not wanting to go overboard. Just enough to even out my skin without looking cakey. I carefully dabbed concealer under my eyes, trying to hide the evidence of restless nights, and powdered my T-zone.

Then came the hardest part—eyeliner. I swear I spent a good 20 to 30 minutes on it, trying to get both sides even. My eye felt raw from the repeated attempts, but when I finally got it right, it was worth it. A peachy blush went on the apples of my cheeks and a dusting on the tip of my nose, giving me that fresh, cute look. I finished with a swipe of lip gloss, the subtle shine making my lips look just a little pouty.

I sat back and took a moment to admire my work. A small smile tugged at my lips as I reached for my circle glasses, slipping them on to complete the look. The lenses brought everything into sharp focus, the world now crisp and clear in high definition.

It wasn't just about how I looked—it was how I felt and I felt pretty!

Parker had said I needed to look good, and the pressure made my hands sweat as I rummaged through my closet. It had been at least a year since Piper and I had gone thrifting together, so my options were limited. I couldn't exactly go to school nude, and I had to pick something that matched Parker's standards.

After what felt like an eternity of indecision, I settled on a cream sweater and an overall dress that reached my knees. The fabric felt soft against my skin, a cozy reminder that I could still feel cute and comfortable. I slipped into a pair of tights to disguise my world's palest legs, then pushed my feet into my trusty Doc Martens, which had been gathering dust in the corner of my room.