Orange Hair at the Deep End

Maya's hands shook as she adjusted the straps of her bikini. The newly dyed orange hair cascading down her back felt like a beacon—look at me, I'm different now. Last night's impulse decision in her bathroom with a $12 box of dye now felt terrifyingly permanent.

The pool party crowd roared with laughter. Someone had pushed Josh in fully clothed. He surfaced sputtering, looking like a half-drowned rat, while everyone's phones captured the moment. Maya stood on the patio's edge, feeling like a zombie whose brain had been hijacked by overthinking. Three hours of sleep and enough anxiety to fuel a small apocalypse would do that to a person.

"YO, Maya!" Sasha waved from the pool's shallow end. "Get in here! The water's actually decent for once."

Maya forced a smile. "Maybe in a bit."

Truth was, she'd barely worn a swimsuit since freshman year. Since the comments about her body, the way boys looked, the way girls whispered. The orange hair was supposed to be armor. A statement that said, notice me for something else.

Zombie-like, she moved toward a lawn chair. Her phone buzzed. Best friend Kai: you okay? you seemed off earlier.

Before she could type a lie, a splash of cold water hit her back. She spun around—some kid with a Super Soaker, grinning like he'd just won the lottery.

"My bad," he said, not sorry at all.

Something in Maya snapped. The zombie trance broke. She marched to the pool's edge, where Sasha and Josh and everyone else floated like they hadn't a care in the world, and she jumped.

The water shocked her system. She surfaced, orange hair plastered to her face, sputtering like Josh had minutes earlier. Laughter bubbled up from somewhere genuine.

"Finally!" Sasha yelled. "Took you long enough."

Maya wiped her eyes. The orange hair dripped. She felt ridiculous and exposed and alive.

A boy she'd had a crush on since eighth grade—Leo—tread water nearby. He wasn't looking at her body. He was looking at her hair, grinning.

"Sick color," he said. "Really suits you."

Maya floated on her back, orange hair fanning out like fire on water. The zombie feeling evaporated, replaced by something lighter. Maybe authenticity wasn't as terrifying as she'd built it up to be. Maybe it was just a matter of jumping in anyway, even when your hands shook.

The pool had never felt so much like belonging.