Orange Goldfish, Wild Heart

The carnival goldfish had lasted three days before floating belly-up. Typical. Just like Maya's promise to help me reinvent myself this summer.

"You need a vibe," she'd said, scrolling through TikTok. "Something that screams 'I'm not the same girl who brought spinach wraps to the first party of freshman year.'"

I cringed at the memory. The spinach wraps had been part of my brief healthy phase, the same week I'd tried to impress Jake by pretending I knew skateboarding. Ended up with a bruised tailbone and the nickname "Spinach" for half a semester.

Now it was junior year, and I was determined to enter senior year differently. Bold. Unapologetic. Maybe even a little chaotic.

"So," Maya said, pulling me toward the bathroom. "We're doing this."

She held up a box of orange hair dye. Sunset Flame, it promised on the packaging. I'd never dyed my hair before. Never even colored outside the lines in coloring books as a kid.

"What if it looks terrible?" I asked, my voice small.

"What if it looks amazing?" she countered. "What if you finally feel like yourself?"

The dye burned my scalp. I sat there staring at the goldfish bowl on my dresser - new fish, new attempt. This one was named Phoenix, because I was feeling poetic.

Forty minutes later, I rinsed out the dye. My hair was definitely orange. Like, really orange. Not the subtle auburn I'd pictured. I looked like a traffic cone.

Maya gasped. "You look..."

"Terrible?" I prompted.

"Alive," she finished. "You look alive."

I studied myself in the mirror. The orange was shocking. Unhinged. Perfect.

I thought about spinach wraps and dead goldfish and every time I'd played it safe. Every time I'd dimmed myself to fit in, to be palatable, to not take up space.

Then I grabbed my phone and posted a selfie. #NewEra #OrangeHairDontCare

The likes started pouring in. Jake commented: "?? radical"

I smiled at my reflection. Maybe I'd always be the girl who brought spinach to parties, but now I was the girl who brought spinach and didn't apologize for it. The girl who dyed her hair traffic-cone orange and loved it.

Phoenix swam to the front of his bowl and blew bubbles at me.

"Yeah," I whispered. "We're both still here."