Nellie had a problem.

Actually, according to Nellie, she had several.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at herself.

She pushed her glasses up.

“No.”

She took them off.

“Better.”

Then everything became blurry.

“Okay. Contacts.”

She put her glasses back on and grabbed one of her

long, dark-brown curls.

She stretched it.

It bounced right back.

“Nope.”

Nellie looked down at her ripped jeans and sneakers.

“Nope.”

Then back at her hair.

“Definitely nope.”

She pointed at herself in the mirror.

“Nellie Peterson, you need a glow up.”

The bathroom door opened.

Zoe walked in.

“Are you talking to yourself?”

“GET OUT!”

“I need toothpaste.”

“There are other bathrooms!”

“I like this toothpaste.”

Zoe grabbed it and looked at Nellie.

“You look the same.”

Nellie stared at her.

“THAT’S THE PROBLEM.”

Ten minutes later, Nellie found Lana.

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“My glow up.”

Lana stared at her.

“Your what?”

Nellie pointed at herself.

“This curly hair needs to go. The glasses need to go. These clothes need help.”

“Nellie, your curls are pretty.”

“Uh-uh. Don't start.”

“Start what?”

“‘You're beautiful the way you are.’ I don't need a speech. I need ADVICE.”

Lana laughed.

“Okay, diva.”

“Contacts.”

“Fine.”

“Cuter clothes.”

“Sure.”

“Straight hair.”

“If you want.”

“Blonde.”

Lana's smile disappeared.

“No.”

Nellie frowned.

“Why?”

“Because your hair is dark brown and you're about to bleach your entire head because somebody called you chopped.”

“I would look good blonde.”

“Does your mom know?”

Nellie paused.

“She knows I have hair.”

“NELLIE.”

“I'll ask her.”

Lana narrowed her eyes.

“You better.”

Emily actually agreed to contacts and some new clothes.

A few days later, Nellie had contacts, new jeans, cute tops, new sneakers, and some slightly dressier shoes.

But she wasn't finished.

She found John eating cereal.

“I need you to take me to the salon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“I'll give you twenty dollars.”

John slowly put down his spoon.

“What are you getting done?”

“Straightened. Trimmed. Maybe bangs.”

“Fine.”

“And blonde.”

“No.”

“Mom said yes.”

John stared at her.

“Mom said you could bleach your hair?”

“Yes.”

“I'm asking her.”

“No! I'll text her.”

Nellie grabbed her phone and started typing.

John watched suspiciously.

A few seconds later, Nellie looked up.

“She answered.”

“What did she say?”

Nellie smiled.

“Perfection.”

John stared.

“Mom has never said ‘perfection’ in her life.”

“She just did.”

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Nellie.”

“She said yes! Come on!”

John should have known.

He absolutely should have known.

At the salon, Nellie went ALL IN.

Her long dark-brown curls became straight blonde hair with bangs.

Then she added permanent pink and blue underneath.

When the stylist spun the chair around, Nellie's mouth dropped open.

“Oh. My. Gosh.”