Bear, Hair, Zombie, Bull

My hair refused to cooperate. Again. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I watched my curls spring into an untamed mane that made me look like I'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket. "You're going with me," I told it. "We're doing this."

I was sixteen, and my biggest challenge wasn't zombies—which I'd been obsessed with since watching The Walking Dead last summer—but surviving sophomore year without becoming one myself. School had this way of draining you until you shuffled through hallways, eyes glazed, surviving on caffeine and existential dread.

"Alex! Stop talking to your hair and get out here!" Mom's voice floated up the stairs.

I grabbed my backpack and headed down. The annual County Fair was happening, and Mom had volunteered me for every miserable job imaginable. Today: manning the petting zoo while she worked the ticket booth.

"You look nice," Mom said, handing me a bucket of feed pellets. "Mr. Henderson said he needed help with the animals."

"The petting zoo? Seriously?"

"It builds character."

The fairgrounds were already buzzing. I spotted my crush, Jordan, by the zombie paintball booth with his friends. Of course he'd be there. He played lacrosse, had perfect hair that actually listened to gravity, and probably didn't spend mornings negotiating with his reflection.

I tried to look busy cleaning the goat pen while simultaneously trying not to exist. Then I heard it: a crash from behind the barn.

"Hey!" someone yelled. "That bull got loose again!"

A crowd scattered as a massive bull charged through the fair. People screamed. Jordan and his friends bolted toward the exit. And me? I was trapped between the petting zoo fence and a very angry, very large animal.

The bull snorted, its head lowering.

I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Then something shifted—my hair, wild and ridiculous, caught the wind. I wasn't the invisible girl anymore. I was the girl who didn't run.

"Hey!" I shouted, waving my arms. "Over here!"

The bull turned. I scrambled up the fence, vaulting over just as its horns hit the wood where I'd been standing. Mr. Henderson and the rodeo team finally arrived, tranquilizers ready.

"You alright?" Mr. Henderson asked, panting.

"Yeah." My hands shook, but I felt something I hadn't felt in months: alive. Not zombie alive, but actually, truly alive.

Jordan and his friends came back. "Did you see that?" Jordan asked, eyes wide. "You stood your ground against a BULL. That was insane."

"Yeah," I said, suddenly hyper-aware of my wild, crazy, perfect hair. "I guess I did."

Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all. Zombies were overrated anyway.