Mascot Mishap

I was literally five seconds away from having a full-on meltdown in the middle school gym during Spirit Week. The admin had volun-told me to wear the bull mascot costume, and let me be clear—it was NOT a vibe. The thing smelled like middle schooler sweat and regret, and I was already sweating through my clothes underneath.

"You got this, Maya!" Jordan yelled from the bleachers. His hair was dyed a ridiculous shade of orange because he'd lost a bet with his soccer teammates, but somehow he still made it look kinda cute. Not that I was staring or whatever.

I tried to wave my hoof thing and tripped over my own giant feet, faceplanting right in front of everyone. The gym went dead silent. I wanted to evaporate, just straight-up cease to exist.

But then—Jordan's dog, Buster, this golden retriever puppy he'd brought to school (don't ask, I guess the rules were loose that day)—came bounding out of nowhere. Buster started dancing around my fallen bull body, barking happily like this was the best entertainment ever.

Jordan ran over, practically dying of laughter. "Buster loves the bull!" he managed between gasps.

Suddenly, the whole gym was cracking up, but like, in a good way? The seniors were cheering for the bull, Buster was jumping around, and even the principal was smiling. I picked myself up, dusted off my giant bull head, and Jordan gave me this look that made my stomach do that annoying flutter thing.

"Wanna grab boba after?" he asked, scratching Buster behind the ears. "My treat. For the bull's emotional damages."

I nodded, still inside the sweaty mascot head. Sometimes the most embarrassing moments end up being the ones that actually matter. Not to be cheesy, but maybe being the bull wasn't so bad after all.