Blue Hair & Quarry Water

The mistake stared back from the rearview mirror—electric blue hair, the color of a sports drink, frizzing around my ears like I'd stuck my finger in a socket. Mom was gonna lose it. I'd barely walked through the chain-link fence at Miller's Quarry before I heard them.

"Zombie!" Someone yelled.

I flinched. Then I realized—Jake. Grinning that crooked grin that made my stomach do somersaults. "Zombie Apocalypse Leo! You look like you crawled out of a grave, man."

"Ha ha," I said, pulling my hoodie up. The August heat was already suffocating. "Not in the mood, Jake."

"Everyone's swimming, Leo. Even Chloe's out there."

Chloe. In the middle of the quarry, treading water, her dark hair slicked back like a selkie from some old story. She waved, and I pretended not to see, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I couldn't go in the water. The blue was semi-permanent, sure, but semi-permanent meant "might bleed a little" and I wasn't about to find out how much "a little" was in front of everyone. Not Jake. Not Chloe. Not the whole sophomore class watching from the rocks like they were waiting for a show.

"What's that?" Jake pointed at the patio table where someone had left a plastic carnival bag. A goldfish circled in a tiny bowl, looking miserable.

"Trevor won it at the fair," I said. "He's gonna release it, I think."

"In the quarry?" Jake shook his head. "That's like, animal cruelty or something. That thing'll be dead in an hour."

But Trevor was already walking to the edge with the bowl, and I saw it happen—the wobble, the slip, the splash. The bowl hit the water. The goldfish spilled out, a flash of orange sinking into the murky green.

No one moved.

I don't know what happened next. One second I was standing there pulling my hoodie over my blue hair, and the next I was kicking off my shoes and diving, clothes and all, into the quarry water.

The shock hit me like ice. My eyes stung. I couldn't see anything but greenish-brown murk, filtering sunlight from above, and there—a tiny flash of orange near the bottom. My fingers closed around nothing. Then again, and I had it, cupped in both hands like a prayer.

I broke the surface gasping, water streaming from my hair. Blue streaks ran down my face like war paint. Everyone stared.

Chloe was laughing. Jake was staring. I was a zombie, no doubt about it—a dripping, blue-haired, goldfish-rescuing zombie. And for the first time all summer, I didn't care.

"Trevor," I said, wading toward shore with my prize. "Your fish is an idiot."

Chloe splashed me. "You're kinda awesome, Zombie Leo."

My blue hair was ruined. My clothes were soaked. Jake was definitely taking pictures. But standing there in the quarry water, with a goldfish in my hands and Chloe actually looking at me, I figured some mistakes were worth making.