Hair Like Water

My hair used to be my everything. Sixth consecutive year of perfect curls, the kind that bounced when I walked and made people ask what products I used. But freshman year at Eastwood High changed everything.

The day before pool party season, I decided to dye it papaya pink because Maya said it would look "fire." She was wrong. It came out the color of a bruised sunset, and I spent three weeks in a hoodiesoaked in sweat while everyone else splashed at Connor's house.

"Just come in already!" Connor yelled from the deep end. "Nobody cares about your hair!"

He was lying. Everyone cared about everything. That's basically the whole point of high school.

I started running that summer. Every morning at 6 AM, before the neighborhood woke up, I'd lace up my too-expensive running shoes and go until my legs burned. I ran past Mrs. Henderson's house with her perfect lawn, past the elementary school where I used to feel cool, past the weird house with the papaya tree in their front yard that always smelled like tropical disappointment.

Running was different from swimming. When you run, nobody sees you sweat. When you run, you can just disappear.

"Hey, Hoodie Girl!" someone yelled during third week. It was Alexis from the track team, jogging beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You've got good form."

I stopped running. My hair was frizzy from the humidity, my face was probably beet red, and I was wearing the same faded Harry Potter shirt I'd worn every day that week.

"I'm not really a runner," I said.

"Nobody's really anything yet," she replied, like that was just a normal thing to say to someone. "We're all just figuring it out. You coming to practice tomorrow?"

The pool party happened two days later. I showed up with my papaya-frizz hair and my one-piece from middle school because that's what I had. Maya waved from the shallow end with her perfect blonde waves and her perfect friends.

Alexis was there too, sitting on the edge with her legs in the water. She scooted over when she saw me.

"Finally," she said. "I saved you a spot."

I sat down beside her and let my legs hang in the cool water. The sun hit my hair and for the first time, it didn't feel like something to hide behind.

"It's actually kind of badass," Alexis said. "The color, I mean. Like you're not trying to be perfect anymore."

I looked at my reflection in the water. Maybe she was right. Maybe papaya pink frizz was exactly who I was supposed to be.

"Hey," I said, dipping my head back until my hair floated on the surface. "I think I might join track."