Frizz and First Serves

Mia swallowed her daily **vitamin** gummy with a sigh, catching her reflection in the hallway mirror. The humidity was doing exactly what she'd expected – turning her shoulder-length curls into a halo of frizz that made her look like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket. At fifteen, the right hair could make or break your entire existence.

"You going to the club today?" her brother called from somewhere downstairs.

"Yeah," Mia yelled back, grabbing her **padel** racquet from where it leaned against her bookshelf. She'd only started playing three weeks ago when her grandmother suggested she "get out of the house and make some real friends," but she was actually getting decent at it. Better than decent, if the way the older kids had stopped pretending she didn't exist meant anything.

The Beach & Tennis Club was a swirl of privileged teens in expensive swimwear and.Designer sunglasses. Mia made her way to the **padel** court where the usual crew was already warming up. Tyler from her history class was there, looking annoyingly perfect even with sweat dripping down his neck.

"You playing?" he asked, which was basically the most words he'd ever said to her.

"If there's room," Mia said, trying to sound chill instead of like her stomach was doing backflips.

They played for hours under the relentless sun, the court surrounded by towering **palm** trees that cast striped shadows across the clay. Mia's team won more games than they lost, and Tyler kept accidentally high-fiving her after points, his **palm** warm against hers. Her hair was a disaster by the end – sweat-damp and wildly untamed – but nobody seemed to care.

Then the sky darkened. One minute they were joking about how Chloe's serves needed serious work, and the next, a jagged streak of **lightning** split the sky, close enough that Mia felt the electricity prickle across her skin.

"Everyone inside!" a counselor shouted, and they scrambled toward the clubhouse as the first fat drops began to fall.

They ended up crowded in the game room, watching the storm through floor-to-ceiling windows. **Lightning** kept flashing, illuminating everything in stark blue-white. Mia caught her reflection again – curls completely unleashed, frizz taking over like she'd personally invented it – and realized nobody was staring. Tyler was sitting next to her, complaining about how they'd been winning, and her hair was the last thing on anyone's mind.

"Your hair's kind of awesome, you know," Tyler said suddenly, like he'd been thinking about it. "Mine just lays there like a dead animal."

Mia laughed so hard she almost choked. Outside, another streak of **lightning** cracked against the dark sky, and for the first time all summer, she didn't check her reflection to see how it looked back at her.