Green in the Teeth, Gold at Heart

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket. Another Instagram story from Kai—perfect, golden, effortless. She swiped past it, staring at her own reflection instead. The braces felt huge tonight, a metal prison she'd been trapped in for eighteen months.

"You gonna eat that spinach dip or just stare at it?" JT joked, kicking her chair.

"Ha ha." Maya pushed the bowl away. Spinach was the enemy. The Great Braces Incident of last October—when she spent three hours talking to Lucas with green stuff stuck in her teeth—still lived in infamy.

Her iPhone lit up. Kai again: *rodeo tonight? everyone's going*

Maya's thumb hovered. The rodeo. Where her dad rode bulls every Saturday, where she'd been learning in secret since summer, where she'd won junior barrels last month but told literally no one because cheerleaders didn't ride. Right.

"What's that face?" JT asked. "You look like you're solving world hunger."

"Just thinking."

"About that party at Olivia's?" He raised an eyebrow. "Word is, you and Kai—"

"There's no me and Kai."

"Could be." He grinned. "If you weren't so scared of everything."

The words hit harder than they should. Maya grabbed her bag. "I gotta go."

"What? Where?"

"Out."

She drove to the fairgrounds, dust kicking up behind her dad's old truck. The arena lights blazed against the purple twilight. She could hear it—the crowd, the announcer, that electric tension that lived in the air before something wild happened.

Her dad spotted her immediately. "Maya? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She climbed through the fence. "Just came to watch."

But then the chute opened.

The bull erupted—massive, furious, impossible—and something in Maya's chest said *yes*. Not fear. Recognition.

Before she could stop herself, she was moving. Not running away. Running *toward*.

"Maya, NO!" her dad shouted.

The bull had thrown its rider. It was confused, angry, charging toward a kid who'd wandered too close. Maya didn't think. She just moved, placing herself between the animal and the child, making herself big, loud, present in a way that said *I see you, I'm not scared, you need to calm down.*

The bull skidded to a halt, snorting, confused.

Someone shouted from the fence—JT, Kai, half the football team, phones out, recording.

"Who IS that?" she heard Kai say.

The bull huffed once, then turned away.

Maya turned too, heart hammering, and locked eyes with Kai. His phone was still raised, still recording, but the expression on his face wasn't laughter.

It was awe.

"That was," JT said, "the most badass thing I've ever seen."

Maya wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her reflection in her phone screen—no makeup, hair wild, huge smile, braces full-on visible and absolutely ZERO spinach anywhere.

Perfect.