Frizzy After Midnight

Maya's frizzy hair had a mind of its own — kinda like how her former best friend Sierra had ghosted her three weeks ago over some dumb misunderstanding.

"You need this vitamin D supplement," Maya's mom said, setting a glass of orange juice on the kitchen counter. "You've been cooped up in your room all weekend."

Maya rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. Just finishing my English essay."

Truth: she was doomscrolling through Sierra's Instagram stories, watching her live her best life at Cody's party without her. The FOMO hit different at 11:47 PM on a Saturday.

Then came the lightning. Not the actual weather kind — though that would've been cinematic — but the group chat notification that lit up her phone like someone had punched a hole through the darkness.

Sierra: im outside

Maya's heart did that thing where it forgot how to rhythm. She tiptoed to the window, and there he was: Buster, Sierra's golden retriever, sitting on their front lawn with a neon yellow bow tied around his neck. And behind him, Sierra, looking smaller than Maya remembered.

They met on the front porch steps, the summer humidity already frizzing out Maya's hair even more.

"I brought vitamins," Sierra said, pulling a gummy bottle from her pocket. "Figured you could use some immune support after... you know."

"After you didn't invite me to Cody's?"

"After I realized he was being weird to you and I didn't say anything." Sierra sat on the bottom step, Buster immediately resting his chin on her knee. "I thought choosing him would make me fit in more. Turns out it just made me lose the only person who actually gets my memes."

Lightning flashed across the sky, actual this time, illuminating Sierra's guilty face.

"I didn't invite you because I knew Cody would make it weird," Sierra continued. "I thought I was protecting our friendship, but I was actually just... being a coward."

Maya thought about all the hours she'd spent overthinking, reconstructing conversations in her head, wondering what she'd done wrong. The relief hit her like actual lightning — bright and sudden and leaving everything clearer.

"You're such an idiot," Maya said, but she was already sitting down beside her.

"I know." Sierra handed her a vitamin gummy. "Truce?"

"Only if you admit Buster wore that bow for three hours straight."

"Four. He deserved a treat after that emotional labor."

They sat there as the first raindrops fell, not saying anything important, just watching the storm roll in while Buster pretended he wasn't secretly delighted by the attention. Some friendships survive lightning storms. Others just need a little rain to wash off the mess.

"Your hair is doing that thing again," Sierra said.

"Shut up. It's personality."

"Yeah," Sierra smiled. "That's why I missed it."