How to Bear It

My hair looked perfect for exactly twelve seconds before I walked into Tyler's basement. Then humidity happened, and suddenly I had the kind of frizz that says, "Yes, I'm trying too hard."

"You look fine," my best friend Chloe said, though her eyes were scanning the room like she was already calculating exit strategies. "Just don't be a zombie about it."

Zombie. That was rich coming from someone who'd spent the entire week on three hours of sleep and what I'm pretty sure was 70% iced coffee.

The basement was already crowded—people from school I barely recognized, some older, everyone radiating that terrifying confidence. Someone had queued up a horror movie in the corner, actual zombies stumbling across a screen while people pretended to watch.

I spotted Tyler near the makeshift bar, surrounded by a laughing group like he was the sun and they were planets. Last year, Tyler and I had sat together every day in bio, passing notes about how Mr. Henderson's tie collection was slowly destroying our will to live. Now he looked at me like I was a stranger.

"Hey," I said, because what else do you say?

"Yo!" He high-fived me. "Did I tell you about my goldfish?"

"Your... goldfish?"

"Yeah. I won it at the carnival. Named him Gerald. Dude lived for like, three days. It was tragic." He laughed, and everyone around him laughed, and I didn't understand what was funny but I laughed too.

Chloe found me later by the snack table, nursing a lukewarm soda. "You okay? You look like you're about to bear your soul to someone."

"I hate this," I admitted. "I hate that everything's different now."

"Yeah." She popped a handful of chips into her mouth. "But at least Gerald RIP."

We watched a zombie get decapitated on the TV screen. Someone spilled something sticky. Tyler was still the sun, but somehow, watching him from across the room, he seemed smaller. Less gravitational.

My hair was definitely a disaster.

"You want to bail?" Chloe asked.

"Yes."

"Cool. Let's go. There's a convenience store with our name on it."

We slipped out the side door into the cool night air, laughing about absolutely nothing, and I realized I didn't care about Tyler or goldfish or humidity. I had my friend, I had freedom, and tomorrow I'd probably care about hair again, but tonight? Tonight was for not caring at all.