No Filter Needed

Maya's fourth smoothie bowl attempt sat on the counter, looking nothing like the Pinterest inspiration. The **spinach** had turned the whole thing a murky brown instead of that aesthetic green everyone posted. Typical.

"May! Hurry up, we're gonna be late!" her little brother yelled from downstairs.

She grabbed her **iPhone** and snapped a quick pic anyway, slapping on a Valencia filter because that somehow made brown look vintage-chic instead of failed-healthy-lifestyle. Posted with the caption "clean eating, clean mind" because #wellness culture required maintaining certain illusions.

The sky outside was already darkening, those weird purple clouds that meant **lightning** was coming. Perfect timing for the annual block party, where her mom would definitely force her to socialize with people she hadn't seen since last year's party when she was still going through her "I only wear black" phase.

Now she was in her **orange** hoodie — the one she'd impulse-bought because it looked like something @coolgirlfromcalifornia would wear, not because she actually liked orange. Honestly, she hated orange. It was too bright, too noticeable, too much.

"Maya! You coming or what?"

She sighed and headed out, already mentally drafting her apology text to Jordan about bailing on their study session. Not that Jordan would care — Jordan was probably relieved. Things had been weird since Jordan had come out as bisexual last month, and Maya still didn't know how to act normal about it, which made her feel like the worst friend ever.

The first crack of **lightning** hit just as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Big, dramatic, the kind that made everyone look up simultaneously.

Then she saw Jordan standing under the streetlamp in that oversized denim jacket, looking like they were waiting for something. Or someone.

"Hey," Jordan said, like they hadn't been awkwardly avoiding each other for weeks. "Your mom said you might need this." They held out a can of orange soda, of all things.

Maya froze. "How did you—"

"Remember? You drank, like, five of these at my birthday party in seventh grade and then swore off them because you said they were 'too basic'." Jordan shrugged. "I don't know. I just saw it and thought of you."

Something cracked in Maya's chest, not unlike the sky above them.

"I hate **orange**," she blurted out. "This hoodie, I mean. I only bought it because I thought it would make me look like I had my life together."

Jordan laughed. "Same. I only came tonight because my mom said I had to 'put myself out there.' I've been standing here for twenty minutes psyching myself up to talk to you."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. I thought you were avoiding me because—" Jordan stopped. "Doesn't matter. You want to get out of here? My sister's car is parked around the corner."

"What about the party?"

"What about it?" Jordan's phone buzzed. They glanced at it. "Ugh. Another one of those 'stay hydrated and manifest your best life' posts. No offense."

Maya looked at her own **iPhone**, her latest post still up on screen. All those likes from people who didn't know the **spinach** had made her gag, or that she'd taken seventeen photos to get that one shot, or that she was standing here in a hoodie she hated because she thought it would make people like her more.

She deleted the post.

"None taken," she said, and for the first time in months, it was the truth.