Mascot Confidential

The bear suit smelled like freshman year sweat and broken dreams. I shuffled through the gym, my fuzzy head bumping into bleachers while the basketball game roared around me. Being the school mascot was supposed to be cool—prime exposure, guaranteed social boost. Instead, I was literally and figuratively inside a sweaty polyester cage, invisible to everyone including Maya, who sat three rows up laughing at something Jake said.

That's when I saw it: Jake's phone glowing in his lap under his sweater. He was texting someone while Maya rested her head on his shoulder. My stomach did that thing where it tries to exit through your throat. I inched closer, playing the mascot card—nobody suspects the bear.

"Dude, bear's creeping on us," someone said.

I froze. Did a stupid little dance. They lost interest.

Jake's screen lit up again: "she's so clingy idk how to dump her lol"

My fists clenched inside the paws. Maya deserved better. She'd spent three weeks helping him study for bio while he was literally spilling their conversations to someone else. I could march up there, rip off the head, and—what? Make a scene? Be that pathetic mascot who caught feelings through osmosis?

Then Maya stood up. "Jake, we need to talk."

"Babe, not here—"

"You've been texting Lisa since you picked me up. I'm not stupid." Her voice cracked but she held her ground. "We're done."

The gym went silent. Jake's face turned that particular orange of someone who's been exposed. I watched Maya walk away, head high, while half the student body pulled out their phones like they'd just witnessed lightning strike the same place twice.

I followed her outside, where the parking lot lights buzzed in the humid air. She was sitting on the curb, tearing apart a satsuma orange someone had handed her.

"You want some?" she asked, without looking up. "It's actually pretty good."

I sat beside her, still in the bear suit. She leaned against my fuzzy shoulder. We watched storm clouds gather in the distance, first lightning flickering like camera flashes from somewhere far away.

"Thanks for the backup, mystery bear," she said quietly.

"Anytime," I said, my voice muffled by the mascot head.

"You sound familiar," she said.

"I'm nobody. Just the bear."

She laughed. "Yeah. Me too."

When school started Monday, Maya found me at my locker. "Hey bear," she whispered. "Wanna get orange chicken after school? My treat."

Some identities are worth shedding. Some are worth keeping. This bear suit was definitely staying in my closet—for the right reasons.