Mascot Drama

Maya's life was officially a mess. Homecoming week, and she'd somehow gotten roped into being the school mascot—the Golden Bull. The costume smelled like middle school locker room, and the foam head was giving her a migraine.

"You'll be fine," her best friend Kai had said. "Just vibe with it."

Vibe with it. Right. Because that's exactly what you do when you're sweating inside a polyester bull costume at 7 AM.

Then disaster struck. The drama club's cat—actual cat, not costume—escaped backstage during prep for the assembly. Mr. Harrison was losing his mind, yelling about liability and allergies. Maya, still half-dressed as the bull, got cornered into helping.

"You're tall enough to reach the catwalk," someone insisted. Because obviously, bull costumes are known for their cat-retrieving capabilities.

She climbed up in this ridiculous suit, tail swinging like a metronome of embarrassment. Found the cat curled up on a lighting bar. It looked at her like *she* was the weird one.

"Listen," she whispered to the cat. "I'm bare-ass minimum functioning right now. Let's help each other out."

The cat actually nudged her hand. Maybe it sensed solidarity. She scooped it up—claws through the foam, whatever—and climbed down, the bull head flopping sideways.

Everyone stared as she descended like some bizarre creature-feature hybrid: bull body, cat carrier, zero dignity.

Then Jordan—Jordan, who she'd been lowkey crushing on since orientation—started cracking up. Not mean laughing. Like, *actually* laughing. "That's literally the most chaotic energy I've ever seen."

Maya's face burned hotter than the gym after basketball practice. But then Jordan held out their phone. "Send me that? For the meme page?"

She didn't die of mortification. She didn't transfer schools. She just handed over the cat, peeled off the bull head, and laughed until her ribs hurt.

Sometimes you've just gotta bear the ridiculousness. And sometimes, somehow, ridiculous is exactly where you find your people.