Gummy Bears and Frizzy Days

Maya's hair had declared war on humidity — again. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, gathering the frizzy disaster into a messy bun for the third time that morning. The curling iron sat on the counter like a rejected ex, mocking her.

"YOU LOOK FINE," her sister shouted through the door. "You're literally meeting Jake at the mall. Chill."

Maya grabbed her bag, heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always did when she thought about Jake. He'd smiled at her in chemistry yesterday, and now she was spiraling into outfit-change paralysis for the third hour straight.

Her mom appeared in the doorway, holding out a neon pink bottle. "Did you take your hair vitamin?"

"MOM," Maya groaned. "I'm fourteen. I'm not taking gummy hair vitamins in front of Jake. That's literally the most embarrassing thing that could happen."

"They're not gummy!" Her mom looked offended. "They're scientifically formulated with biotin —"

"They taste like strawberry betrayal. No thanks."

The mall air conditioning was a gift from the universe. Maya spotted Jake immediately — he was wearing that vintage band tee she'd complimented last week, and he was fidgeting with his phone like he was nervous too.

"Hey!" Jake's smile did things to her stomach that should be illegal. "You look... really nice."

"Thanks!" Her voice came out an octave too high. Kill her now.

They walked toward the food court, making awkward small talk about summer plans and how much chemistry sucked. Then Jake stopped suddenly.

"Okay, I have to tell you something."

Maya's brain short-circuited. This was it. He was going to confess his undying love. OR reject her. OR ask if she could tutor him in math.

Jake pulled a bottle from his backpack. Neon pink. Strawberry-flavored hair vitamins.

"My mom made me bring these," he said, looking miserable. "She said I need to 'bear in mind that proper nutrition shows commitment to self-care.' I literally have to take them in front of her on FaceTime tonight or she's coming to pick me up."

Maya stared. Then she started laughing. She couldn't stop.

"What?" Jake looked horrified. "Is my hair that bad?"

"No!" Maya wiped actual tears from her eyes. "My mom made me bring mine too. I was supposed to take them this morning but I —"

She pulled the matching bottle from her own bag.

They stood there in the middle of the mall, holding identical bottles of strawberry-flavored betrayal, and laughed until their ribs hurt.

"Wanna do it together?" Jake asked. "Like, get it over with?"

"Yes," Maya said. "Absolutely yes."

They each chewed two vitamins with the grim determination of soldiers heading into battle. They were terrible — artificial strawberry coating something that tasted like vitamins and desperation.

"Worth it," Jake declared, because apparently his life was a rom-com now.

"Totally," Maya agreed, even though her hair was still frizzy and the vitamins still tasted like sadness.

But Jake was looking at her like she was the best thing that had happened all day, frizzy hair and vitamin breath and all.

"Wanna get pretzels?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure we earned it."

Maya smiled, her hair rebellious and perfect. "Abso-freaking-lutely."