The dressing room

"Holy guacamole..."

I clutched my stomach.

I knew I wasn't supposed to eat it. I mean, I'm lactose intolerant. But that lasagna looked so good. It was practically whispering my name.

Now here I was, sitting on a toilet, facing the consequences of my actions.

You can probably fill in the details.

Let's just say... I was in deep shit.

Literally.
Outside the bathroom door, Winston knocked.
"Miss Mercier?"
"No."
"Your mother is asking for you."
"Tell her I died honorably."
"I cannot."
"You can if you believe in yourself."
"I don't."
I groaned and rested my forehead against the stall door.
"Traitor."
Outside, Winston resumed his post beside the restroom door.

Today's just... not my day.

Although...

I wonder if there's any lasagna left.

Anyway, I should probably introduce myself.

My name is Anastacia Mercier, but everyone calls me Ana. Around school, I'm known as the "Pageant Princess."

I'm seventeen years old.

I've also been told... repeatedly... that I don't act my age.

This is the story of how I fell in love.

And it all started with lasagna.