Hat Hair & Heartbreaks

Maya's mom handed her the cable-knit sweater with a look that said *please don't hate me*. It was, objectively, hideous. The kind of ugly that somehow circled back around to being a statement piece, except the statement was "my mom knitted this with love and zero taste."

"You have to wear it," Mom insisted. "It's cold outside."

"Mom, I'm going to a spring formal. Outside. Where everyone will see me. In this... pyramid of wool." Maya held it up. It was basically a fabric mountain.

"It's vintage-chic!"

"It's grandmother-chic. There's a difference."

But Maya wore it anyway because she had zero backup outfits and her mom had already taken approximately four thousand photos for her "Milestones" Facebook album, whatever that meant.

The dance was in the school gym, transformed with fairy lights and questionable streamers. Maya spotted Jordan by the punch bowl—Jordan, who'd been in her biology lab since freshman year, who always let her copy the homework she definitely didn't forget to do, who smiled like actual sunlight.

Tonight was the night. She'd practiced her opening line in the mirror like a freaking serial killer. "Hey Jordan, having fun?" Smooth. Groundbreaking. Historically significant.

Then disaster struck. Someone had brought their cat. A tiny, furious kitten that was NOT having the gym atmosphere, thanks very much. It bolted toward the exit, knocking over a pyramid of plastic cups in its wake. The cups went everywhere. Students scattered. Teachers sighed.

Maya, being Maya, didn't think. She just moved, diving to grab the cat before it could escape into the parking lot.

"Gotcha," she muttered, but the cat was NOT impressed. It wriggled free and—because the universe had a personal vendetta against her—climbed directly onto her head.

So there she was: Maya Chen, wearing her grandmother's cable-knit sweater, with a cat perched on her head like some deranged hat, in the middle of the spring formal, while Jordan watched from three feet away.

"That's... a look," Jordan said, eyes twinkling.

"It's called fashion," Maya said, deadpan. "Look it up."

Jordan laughed. Not a polite laugh. A real one, head thrown back, and suddenly the absurdity of it all hit Maya too. She started giggling, then full-on laughing, and soon they were both doubled over while the cat settled contentedly onto her wool-coated cranium.

"Want help with... that?" Jordan pointed at the cat-hat situation.

"Please. Also, I'm sorry I said your sweatshirt looked like a sad burrito last week."

"I forgot about that, but I'm remembering it now and feeling attacked." Jordan carefully lifted the cat down. "You know, I think the sweater works on you."

"Liar."

"Maybe. But you're the only person who'd dive for a random cat. That's pretty cool."

Maya's face burned, but not from embarrassment this time. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jordan smiled. "Want to get some punch? Before someone else's pet decides to stage a coup?"

Maya grinned, cat hair still floating around her like confetti. "Absolutely."