Orange Crush at 3 AM

My mom stood by the door, vitamin C tablet in her outstretched hand like some peace offering before I walked into the lion's den. "You need your immune system tonight, baby."

"Mom, I'm fifteen. I got this."

I took it anyway because refusal required energy I didn't have. Between finals week and track practice, I'd been operating on fumes and caffeine, basically a zombie with a GPA. Tonight was Jordan's party—first one of the year I'd actually been invited to, which meant it was make-or-break for my social resurrection.

My phone buzzed. Marcus: you coming?

Walking out now, I typed back.

Buster, our ancient golden retriever, thumped his tail against the kitchen linoleoleum. He looked at me with those dopey eyes that said I know you're nervous and also I love you unconditionally. If only high school worked that way.

The party was already packed when I arrived. Three people I didn't know were doing keg stands in the kitchen. Someone had spilled orange soda on the carpet. I grabbed a Solo cup, filled it with fruit punch that definitely wasn't just fruit punch, and planted myself against a wall.

"You look like you're calculating escape routes," someone said beside me.

I jumped. It was Maya, from my English class. The Maya who'd read her slam poetry about dysmorphia in front of everyone while I sat there thinking wow, she's actually brave. Tonight she wore an oversized vintage jacket and looked unfairly comfortable in her skin.

"Maybe I am," I said.

"Wanna get out of here?"

We ended up running through the suburban streets at midnight, hoodie up and sneakers slapping pavement, laughing at nothing and everything. She told me about her parents' divorce and how she found her voice in poetry. I told her about feeling like a hamster in the academic achievement wheel, running nowhere fast.

We stopped at a park, breathless. The streetlights painted everything gold.

"You know what's funny?" she said. "Everyone thinks they're the only one faking it."

We shared her earbuds and listened to indie music while swinging on the swings. No pressure. No performing.

At 3 AM, I walked home feeling lighter than I had in months. Buster waited by the door like he always did. I took another vitamin C pill from the counter—this time because I actually wanted to.

Some things aren't about being immune to the world. They're about finding people who make you less afraid to catch whatever it's putting out there.