Orange Glass at Bull Creek

The **vitamin** gummies rattled in Maya's pocket as she stood at the edge of **Bull Creek**, watching the sunset paint the sky **orange**. Her friends were already knee-deep in the **water**, laughing and splashing like they didn't have a care in the world.

"Maya! Come in!" Kelsey called out, her voice cutting through the evening air. "The water's perfect!"

Maya hesitated. She'd spent the entire freshman year hearing whispers about her arms, her legs, the way her swimsuit fit. So she'd started taking those gummy vitamins—supposed to help you "glow up" over summer. Now here she was, sixteen years old, still afraid to dive in because of what someone might say.

"You coming or what?" Jason shouted, being a total **bull** as usual. He'd been making snarky comments since seventh grade, always finding some way to remind everyone he was the loudest in the room.

Something in Maya shifted. She was done letting people like Jason dictate her moments. Done hiding behind supplements and insecurities while everyone else actually lived their lives.

She kicked off her flip-flops.

The **water** was colder than she expected, shocking her senses as she waded deeper. Her friends cheered, but Maya barely heard them. She was focused on something else—the way the **orange** light fractured across the surface, how it made everything look golden and possible.

"Finally!" Kelsey splashed her, grinning. "We thought you'd chicken out."

"Nah," Maya said, feeling lighter than she had in months. "Just had to leave some baggage on shore."

The vitamin gummies dissolved in her pocket, useless and forgotten. Some things you couldn't supplement your way out of. Some things you just had to dive into.