Orange Hair at the Bottom of the Pyramid

Marcus stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his freshly dyed orange hair. It wasn't a subtle orange. It was like a traffic cone had exploded on his head. His mom was gonna lose her mind, but honestly? Marcus didn't care. At Woodrow Wilson High, being invisible felt worse than getting attention for the wrong reasons.

The school social pyramid was brutal, and Marcus had spent his entire freshman year stuck at the bottom—right alongside the kids who brought literal binders to lunch and the guy who wore a fedora unironically. But sophomore year was supposed to be different. This was his glow-up era, even if it started with a box of discount hair dye.

His golden retriever, Buster, nudged his hand with that wet nose of his. Buster didn't care that Marcus had zero rizz or that his cable knit sweater (thrifted, thank you very much) made him look like a grandpa who taught philosophy.

"You think I look stupid, don't you?" Marcus asked.

Buster just wagged his tail, because that's what dogs do—they're ride or die like that.

That afternoon, Marcus watched from the bleachers as the baseball team practiced. He'd been too scared to try out last year, convinced he'd embarrass himself. But then he'd seen Tyler, the guy who sat behind him in history, striking out during PE and laughing it off. Tyler had made the team. Tyler, who once asked if Japan was in Africa.

The world made no sense sometimes.

Marcus had been practicing his swing in the backyard every day since school ended. Buster chased the balls like it was his job, which was the only reason Marcus hadn't quit immediately. His arms were sore, his batting glove was falling apart, and he was pretty sure his form was still trash. But he kept showing up.

The orange hair wasn't just about attention. It was about becoming someone who wouldn't blend into the background anymore. Someone who would try out for baseball even though he might fail. Someone who would dye his hair ridiculous colors just because he wanted to.

Buster barked, bringing Marcus back to reality. The baseball team was packing up. Marcus's hands were shaking, but he stood up, grabbed his glove, and headed toward the field.

Tomorrow was tryouts. And yeah, he might still be at the bottom of the pyramid. But at least he wouldn't be invisible anymore.