So, let’s catch up. We traveled from Austin to Orlando for that crazy week we call ICDC, all for a slight chance at holding DECA glass. We tested. We role-played. We Universal-ed. And now—just one thing left: awards.

The Morning of the Last Day

The last morning is honestly more stressful than the role plays themselves. Everyone’s replaying every judge’s smirk, every half-funny joke that bombed, every awkward pause. Brutal.

Me? I was feeling all the feels. Sure, I thought my test and role plays were fine—but were they enough? Enough to beat out 18 other people in my section? Enough to beat the guy bragging about being at ICDC four times? Enough to beat the girl who locked in silently before the test? I had no idea.

Here’s the thing no one tells you: first awards take forever. Like, forever. If you thought your state ceremony dragged, this one’s an eternity. Scholarships, speeches, then each event where they (1) call names to the stage, (2) announce top test scores and top role plays, and then (3) reveal who’s moving to finals. Multiply that by dozens of events, and you’re just… waiting.

My event—Restaurant and Food Service Management—was toward the end. I was anxious, nauseous, borderline feral from pacing the convention center four times. My friend’s event? He advanced, got his time slot, presented, and returned to the ceremony before my category was even called. That’s how long.

Finally. My event. I start counting names. 5…10…20…30. Pause. Maybe that was it.

“Bella Rose.”

WHAT. I had done it. Onto the stage! Cue my friends screaming, me jumping out of my seat, hugging sunflower-pin guy in the holding area.

Here’s the weird thing: before my name was called, all I wanted was just that. But the second it happened? I wanted more. I wanted top 20. I wanted another chance at glass.

So, finalists are announced. I count again: 20…17…15…10. Nope. Probably not me. 8…5…3. Okay, maybe I should just be happy with the medal.

“Bella Rose.”

No. Freaking. Way. My jaw literally dropped (yes, it’s on video). I had advanced. I was a finalist.

The Afternoon of the Last Day

After morning awards, my time slot wasn’t until 4 p.m. Six hours. Do I review indicators? Run 10 practice role plays? Fix my intro? Take a nap?

I did none of those. Instead, my school went to Disney Springs for lunch. Oh, and we decided to ride this insane bungee slingshot that launches you hundreds of feet in the air. In suits. Right before finals. (I thought I’d fly out. Perfect way to spring into my last round, right?)

Back at the hotel, I did one practice role play, made a TikTok on the bus, chatted with people, then walked in—terrified, but a little more confident.

The prompt? A policy one. Basically: our restaurant uses third-party delivery (DoorDash, etc.), but drivers keep messing up orders. Create a policy to fix it. Fun.

Policy sounds boring, right? Wrong. My rule in DECA: every prompt has room for creativity. My solution? An AI-powered service app guiding drivers step-by-step with photo check-ins (secure the food, snap a pic, AI approves). Basically, a recipe for zero mistakes.

I thought it was good. The judges… not so much. Two of them, stone-faced, barely made eye contact. They didn’t laugh at my jokes, looked distracted the whole time. I walked out thinking, yep, that’s it.

Night of the Last Day

But nope—we still had Grand Awards. More stress. More waiting. More laps around the convention center. At least this one moved faster.

We watched event after event: finalists called to top 10, then the top 3 awarded glass. Some people cried, some screamed, some looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.

Would I be one of them? Probably not. Maybe a finalist if I was lucky.

My friend got called for top 10. No glass, but still huge. Could I do the same?

After four more anxious laps, the moment came. And if you’ve read this blog before, you know how this ends.

I was named a top 10 finalist. Shocked. Amazed. And then—even more shocked—I heard my name again. Second place. In the world. For making up a restaurant policy on the spot.

I cried. I felt more alive than ever. Surreal doesn’t even cover it. It was the best high of my life.

And how did I celebrate? With Wingstop. Obviously.

Oh, and a rap battle with the room next door. Only in DECA.