Goldfish & Orange Hair

The orange hair had been Mara's mom's idea. "Just highlights, baby. Subtle. Classy." That was three hours and one bottle of Clairol ago. Now Mara looked like a traffic cone. A glossy, expensive traffic cone.

"You look... bright," Chloe said, which was rich coming from someone who'd shaved half her head freshman year.

Mara caught her reflection in a shop window. Her hair was violently orange, like she'd stuck her head in a bag of Cheetos. Her palms were sweating — gross, clammy, why did her body have to broadcast her anxiety like that?

The carnival lights flickered on as dusk settled over the boardwalk. This had been Chloe's plan: distraction. Mara's mom had said, "You're focusing too much on boys. Expand your horizons." So now she was here, heart pounding, hair screaming.

"Wanna try?" Chloe pointed at a game booth where the guy working it was checking them out. "He's cute in an 'I'll break your heart' way."

Mara wiped her palms on her denim shorts. "You go."

"Fine." Chloe handed over three bucks. The guy winked.

Mara stood back, feeling the orange glow of the sunset tinting her even more orange hair. This was it. This was her life now. Bright hair, sweaty palms, watching her best friend flirt with carnies while she stood there like a lemon.

She wandered toward the pet booth, where row upon row of clear plastic bags held goldfish swimming in tiny circles. They looked peaceful. Stuck in small spaces, going nowhere, but at least they were orange on purpose.

"Winner!" Chloe yelled, waving a plastic bag. A single goldfish darted inside.

Mara took it. The fish stared at her with its weird unblinking eye.

"What'll you name it?" Chloe asked. "Chester? Goldie?"

"Swim Shady," Mara said, and Chloe snorted.

Her phone buzzed. Her mom: "How's the hair?"

Mara typed: "Love it. Thanks, Mom." She pressed send.

She caught her reflection again — orange hair, flushed cheeks, holding a fish she'd inevitably forget to feed, standing beside her best friend under the carnival lights. The anxiety in her chest loosened, just a little.

Maybe this was fine. Maybe she didn't have to have it all figured out. Maybe the point wasn't to be perfect, but to be real. Orange hair and all.

She let Swim Shady swim in its tiny circle and finally breathed. Palm dry. Heart steady. Hair ridiculous. Hers.