Hairless Wonders

The bathroom mirror reflected everything I didn't want to see: my oversized hoodie, my messy bun, and behind me, looking over my shoulder like a weird little gremlin – Cornflake, my sphinx cat. She's basically a naked mole rat with an attitude problem, but she's the only one who gets me.

"You ready for this?" I asked her. She sneezed in response. Rude.

Tonight was Maya's back-to-school party, and my so-called best friend had already texted me three times asking where I was. Maya's parties were legendary – too many people, too much noise, and always that one person who'd had way too much to drink.

I grabbed a papaya from the counter on my way out, because nothing says 'cool and collected' like carrying tropical fruit to a high school party. The weird looks I'd get would be worth it – better than standing alone in a corner pretending to check my phone.

When I showed up, the music was already vibrating through the floorboards. I spotted Jamie immediately, my ride-or-die since seventh grade, wearing an orange bomber jacket that screamed 'look at me.' She spotted me and the papaya and practically choked on her soda laughing.

"Did you seriously bring fruit?" she asked, wiping her mouth. "You're such a weirdo."

"It's exotic," I protested, but I was already grinning. "Like me."

The night got weird fast. Someone's older brother showed up with actual alcohol, which sent everyone into a fake-grownup frenzy. I ended up on the roof with three other people, sharing my papaya like we were some kind of cult. The moon was huge and orange-tinted, and for a second, nobody was checking their phones or worrying about who liked who.

"You know," this guy Marcus said, looking at my papaya slices, "this is actually kind of brave."

"Bringing fruit?"

"Being yourself," he said, and I swear my face turned the color of that bomber jacket.

Later, Jamie and I walked home in the comfortable silence that only real friends can share. Cornflake was waiting at the window when I got back, looking judgmental as always.

"How was it?" my mom called from somewhere in the house.

I thought about the orange moon, the shared papaya, the way Marcus had looked at me like I was interesting instead of weird.

"Actually," I said, petting Cornflake's wrinkly little head, "it was pretty good."