Aza adjusted the scrunchie in her hair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Neon green crop top? Check. Denim overalls? Check. Choker necklace and glittery lip gloss? Double check. She didn’t just look like someone from the ’90s—she looked like she had stepped straight out of a Saved by the Bell episode.
Tonight was her 21st birthday, and her older cousin Maya had convinced her to celebrate it with a throwback theme: a full-blown 1990s party. The playlist was full of Destiny’s Child, TLC, and early Britney. There were VHS tapes scattered around for decoration, floppy disks on the snack table, and even an old dial-up sound playing randomly to make people laugh. Maya had gone all out.
Aza had mixed feelings.
Yes, she was excited. Yes, she wanted to dance and eat pizza and pretend she was living in a time before TikTok. But something about turning 21 also filled her with a strange, quiet pressure.
She was an adult now. Legally, officially. The kind of adult who could rent a car (almost), drink a cocktail, sign her own medical forms, and be taken seriously. Yet she still felt like the same girl who used to build blanket forts and cry when her Tamagotchi died.
She sighed, took one last look in the mirror, and walked into the living room, where the party was already in full swing.
“AZA!!!” her best friend Nia screamed, waving a pink solo cup. “You look SO good!”
Aza laughed. “You too! Where did you get that FUBU jacket?”
“Borrowed it from my dad,” Nia said, striking a pose. “He was basically the original cool kid in ’98.”
They hugged, and for a moment, Aza forgot all about her nervousness.
The decorations were perfect. There was a Nintendo 64 set up in one corner with Mario Kart, a table of Dunkaroos and Capri Suns, and a makeshift photo booth with inflatable cell phones and Lisa Frank-style backdrops. Guests had come dressed in everything from grunge flannel to Spice Girls tracksuits. Someone was even wearing light-up LA Gears.
The room was buzzing with laughter, chatter, and the sweet, upbeat sound of MMMBop playing from the speakers.
Aza made her way to the kitchen where Maya was setting out pizza rolls and Hi-C.
“You did all this?” Aza asked, her eyes wide.
“Of course,” Maya said. “It’s your coming-of-age party. You only turn 21 once.”
Aza smiled. “I don’t even know how to be 21.”
Maya gave her a side-eye and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to know how. You just are. You’ll figure it out.”
“But I still feel like a kid sometimes,” Aza admitted. “Is that… normal?”
Maya placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Aza, being an adult doesn’t mean you stop feeling like a kid. It just means you learn how to take care of yourself while still remembering the things that made you happy. Like this party. You loved the ’90s aesthetic growing up, right?”
Aza nodded. “I used to make fake mixtapes with cassette tapes I found in Grandpa’s garage.”
“Exactly. And look—now you’re hosting a full-on ’90s bash, but as a grown woman. That’s the balance.”
Before Aza could respond, someone shouted from the living room, “TIME FOR A TOAST!”
Everyone gathered around as Nia held up a cup and cleared her throat. “I’ve known Aza since we were eight years old and we both cried at summer camp because we missed our moms. She used to draw Sailor Moon on everything, and once tried to convince our whole class that she had a secret power to control lightning.”
Aza laughed, burying her face in her hands.
“But now,” Nia continued, “she’s a real-deal adult. She’s smart, funny, loyal, and somehow manages to balance school, part-time work, and still show up for everyone she loves. So here’s to Aza—the coolest grown-up I know. Happy 21st!”
Everyone cheered and raised their drinks.
Aza blushed. “Thank you, everyone. I honestly wasn’t sure how I’d feel turning 21. I thought it would feel… scarier. But tonight, with all of you and all these ridiculous decorations, I feel exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
The rest of the night blurred in the most perfect way—Polaroid pictures, spontaneous dance battles, and even a surprise karaoke session where Aza and Nia sang “No Scrubs” dramatically into hairbrushes. Aza’s cheeks hurt from laughing.
Later, when most of the guests had gone home, Aza sat on the couch with Maya and Nia, wrapped in a fuzzy throw blanket, a half-eaten bag of Doritos in her lap.
“You know what?” Aza said, looking around at the glitter-strewn carpet and empty Capri Sun pouches. “I think this was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad,” Maya said. “Because being an adult doesn’t have to mean being boring. It just means you get to choose how you live—and tonight, you chose joy.”
Aza leaned back and smiled. Maybe adulthood wasn’t one big moment when everything clicked into place. Maybe it was a bunch of tiny decisions—choosing to celebrate, choosing to remember what made you smile as a kid, choosing to show up even when you feel unsure.
And maybe, just maybe, it all started with a neon crop top, a room full of friends, and a playlist straight out of 1997.
