Gummy Bear Philosophy

Maya stood against the kitchen counter, clutching her red solo cup like it was a lifeline. Jordan's house party raged around her—bass thumping through the walls, people she'd known since middle school suddenly transformed into mysterious creatures with inside jokes and new hairstyles. She'd been standing there for approximately seven minutes, which felt like seven years.

"You look like you're calculating your escape route."

Maya jumped. A guy with messy curls and a faded band tee stood beside her, rummaging through a drawer.

"That obvious?" she muttered.

"I've been there." He held up a bottle triumphantly. "Want one?"

Maya squinted at the label. "Those are your little brother's gummy vitamins."

"They're shaped like bears. Bears are majestic. Also, I'm socially anxious and chewing helps."

Despite herself, Maya snorted. "You're at your own party and you're anxious?"

"Jordan's my cousin. I was drafted. I'm Leo, by the way."

"Maya."

He popped two orange bears into his mouth. "So, Maya, what's your deal? Why are you hiding in the kitchen with the vitamins?"

"Because apparently the only thing scarier than a high school party is admitting you don't know how to be at one." Maya sighed. "I had this whole persona planned. Confident Maya. Witty Maya. Maya Who Knows Exactly How To Stand Near The Snack Table And Look Effortlessly Cool. But instead I'm just... here."

Leo nodded thoughtfully. "The real Maya seems cooler anyway."

"The real Maya is currently freaking out about whether she said 'freaking out' too many times."

"You said it twice. It's fine." Leo grinned. "Look, can I tell you something? No one actually knows what they're doing. The guy everyone thinks is so confident? I saw him practicing his casual wave in the bathroom mirror earlier. That girl whose Instagram looks perfect? She cried in the bathroom at homecoming because someone made fun of her shoes. We're all just pretending we've got this vitamin bear situation handled."

"Vitamin bear situation?"

"Life. It's like these vitamins. You think you need them to grow up properly, but half the time you're just chewing on flavored gelatin and hoping for the best."

Maya laughed—for real this time. "That's the worst metaphor I've ever heard."

"But it worked, didn't it?" Leo held out the bottle. "Want a bear? For courage?"

Maya considered it. The real Maya, Confident-or-Not Maya, reached for a pineapple-flavored bear. "Fine. But if I get sick from expired vitamins, I'm blaming you."

"Deal. Now come on—I think I hear someone playing Cards Against Humanity in the living room, and I need someone to back me up when I play the most unhinged card possible."

"You sure you want to be seen with the kitchen-hiding girl?"

Leo's expression softened. "Pretty sure that's exactly who I want to hang out with. Besides," he nudged her shoulder, "we're friends now. Friends who bond over illegally consuming children's supplements together. That's rare."

Maya followed him into the living room, still clutching her cup, still not entirely sure how to stand or what to say. But as she sank onto the carpet beside Leo and watched him dramatically play a card that made everyone groan, she thought that maybe—just maybe—the real Maya was going to be okay.