Goldfish Memories & Bad Hair Days

Maya stared into the mirror, fingers attacking a single piece of frizzy **hair** that refused to cooperate with her curling iron. The spring formal was in three hours, and her hair had declared war.

"You're doing that thing again," said Leo, her older brother, leaning against her doorframe with his customary smirk. "Overthinking everything until your brain explodes."

Maya's phone buzzed. Jayden. The cute junior from AP Chem who'd somehow asked her to formal. Her stomach did that embarrassing flip-floppy thing, like she'd swallowed a live **goldfish**.

"I'm not overthinking," Maya lied. "I'm conducting a comprehensive analysis of my personal presentation aesthetics."

Leo snorted. "You're spiraling, Maya. Just like last month when you wouldn't leave the house because you thought your nose looked 'criminally asymmetrical.'" He flopped onto her bed, disturbing Professor Fuzzworth, their orange tabby **cat**, who let out an offended yowl and abandoned Leo's stomach for the windowsill.

"That was a legitimate crisis," Maya defended, though she grinned. "This is different. Jayden's different."

"Jayden's a person who said yes when you asked him to a dance," Leo pointed out. "He already likes you, genius. The hair situation is not going to change his opinion of your entire personality."

Maya's mom appeared in the doorway, holding out a small orange container. "Have you taken your **vitamin** D supplement? You've been inside studying all week."

"Mom, I'm seventeen, not seven," Maya groaned, but accepted it anyway because her mom had that scary mom-knowledge about who was and wasn't getting enough sunlight.

"Just saying," her mom said, squeezing her shoulder. "You're beautiful, mija. Jayden would be lucky to go with you, hair perfect or not."

Maya looked at her reflection again. The hair was still imperfect. Her dress was slightly wrinkled. Professor Fuzzworth was now shedding orange fur all her clean clothes.

But Leo was right. Jayden had asked *her*—the girl who made terrible chemistry jokes, who cried at animal rescue videos, who'd accidentally set the microwave on fire twice. Not some perfect Instagram-filter version of herself.

"You know what?" Maya said, putting down the curling iron. "You're right. Let it be messy."

"That's the spirit," Leo said. "Embrace the chaos. That's your brand anyway."

Maya laughed, and something in her chest loosened. Tonight would be whatever it would be—awkward moments, bad dance moves, maybe even a romantic disaster. But it would be real.

And real was infinitely better than perfect.