Green Hair Summer

My hair was supposed to be blonde. That was the plan.

Instead, thanks to a DIY dye job and zero patience, it looked like someone had dumped a bucket of green slime on my head. Right before Taylor's pool party. The same party where Jake—that hockey player with the perfect smile—would definitely be.

"You're not wearing that," Mom said, eyeing my oversized hoodie. "It's ninety degrees."

"I'm not going," I muttered, examining my reflection in the hallway mirror. The green wasn't cute. It wasn't edgy. It was a disaster. Social suicide.

Then Buster, our oversized golden retriever, came barreling down the hallway. He'd gotten into something again—probably Dad's vitamin supplements, based on the orange powder coating his snout. Buster slammed into me, sending me flying backward into the coatrack.

"Great," I said. "Now I have dog hair all over me too."

But Mom was already dialing Taylor's mom. "She'll be there!"

The pool was already crowded when I arrived. I clung to the edge, my hoodie still on, sweating through the fabric while everyone else splashed and screamed. Taylor waved at me from the diving board, looking perfect in her bikini. Jake sat on the pool edge, dangling his feet in the water.

Then my little brother ran past, shouting, "YOUR HAIR LOOK LIKE PEAS!"

I wanted to die.

But then Jake laughed. Actually laughed. Not mean-girl giggling, but like, genuinely cracking up. He swam over and climbed out right next to me.

"Your hair's sick," he said, dripping pool water everywhere. "Did you do it yourself?"

"Accidentally," I admitted.

"That's honestly kinda badass." He ran a hand through his wet hair. "My mom would kill me if I came home with green hair."

Something shifted. I peeled off my hoodie, threw it on a lounge chair, and jumped into the pool. The cool water rushed over my skin, washing away the sweat and the embarrassment. My green hair floated around me like seaweed, bright and impossible to ignore.

Taylor swam over. "Okay, but how'd you get it that color? I need details."

"And I need you guys to help me fix it," I said.

"No way," Jake said. "Keep it. It's got personality."

Later that night, I FaceTimed my best friend Chloe from my room, still smelling like chlorine. Buster was asleep on my bed, orange vitamin powder somehow still on his snout.

"So," Chloe said, zooming in on my wet green hair. "Spill. Everything."

"Jake called it sick," I said, trying to play it cool but failing.

"No way," Chloe shrieked. "THE Jake? As in, the one you've had a crush on since seventh grade?"

"Maybe the green hair was good luck," I said, smiling at my reflection. Not perfect. Not planned. But real.

Green hair, chlorine, and a weird compliment from a hockey player. Turns out, that's all it took to feel like myself again.