Fox Hair and Poolside Air

My mom called it my "fox hair" — that unruly orange mop that refused to be tamed, much like the actual animal. At fourteen, having hair that matched the mascot of my middle school wasn't exactly the vibe I was going for, especially not at Jessica Chen's end-of-summer pool party.

"You coming in or what?" Tyler called from the pool, doing that thing where he splashed water with impossibly perfect casualness. Tyler, who I'd had a crush on since seventh grade, who probably didn't know my name despite us having three classes together.

I stood at the edge in my one-piece, clutching my towel like a lifeline. The truth was, I hadn't gone swimming in two years. Not since the incident in eighth grade PE where my hair turned into a tangled orange birds' nest and someone called me Little Orphan Annie for a month straight.

"She's scared!" someone yelled. Because of course someone did.

"Am not," I shot back, but my voice cracked. Smooth. Real smooth.

I had downloaded this visualization app my therapist recommended. Picture yourself confident, it said. Picture water as something natural and flowing. So I closed my eyes and imagined myself gliding through the pool like I was made for it, hair streaming behind me like some majestic creature —

A tail flickered at the edge of the yard.

My eyes snapped open. An actual fox stood by the fence, watching me with these weirdly intelligent amber eyes. Like it understood my entire emotional crisis.

"There's literally a fox," I said out loud.

Everyone turned. The fox scrambled back into the bushes, but not before locking eyes with me one last time.

"No way," Jessica said. "We've lived here three years and never seen one."

"Maybe it came for the party," someone joked, and people laughed, but not in a mean way. In a whoa-that's-actually-cool way.

Tyler swam over to the edge. "Your hair matches it, you know."

I froze. This was it. The moment I'd been dreading since I got invited.

"It's kinda cool though," he added. "Like, really distinctive. My cousin takes, like, this insane amount of hair vitamins trying to get that color, and yours is just... natural."

I looked at him. He wasn't being sarcastic.

"You think?"

"Yeah." He splashed me. A little bit of water hit my face. "Now get in here, Fox. The pool's actually perfect."

So I jumped. The water rushed over me, cool and shocking and alive. When I broke the surface, my orange hair plastered to my face in wild streaks, and someone — I think Jessica — wolf-whistled.

"Work it, Fox Hair!"

I laughed. I actually laughed. And for the first time in two years, I didn't want to be anywhere else.