Orange Hair, Bigger Problems

Maya's hair was supposed to be a subtle auburn highlights situation. Instead, she stared into her bathroom mirror at what could only be described as radioactive traffic cone orange. Her mom was going to lose her entire mind, but honestly? That was a problem for Future Maya. Present Maya had bigger issues.

Like the pyramid scheme.

Okay, that wasn't fair. Tyler from AP History had sworn it wasn't a pyramid scheme—it was "multi-level entrepreneurship." He'd looked at her with those stupidly pretty hazel eyes across the cafeteria table, going on about financial freedom and being her own boss, and somehow Maya had found herself nodding along like a total simp. Now she had thirty-seven bottles of supposedly organic skincare cluttering her bedroom and exactly zero customers.

"You look like you're about to cry," said Jules, appearing in the bathroom doorway like the world's most judgmental ghost. Jules, with her perfect platinum curls and her ability to pull literally anyone. "What did you do now?"

Maya gestured at her hair. Jules didn't even try to hide her laugh.

"Okay, first of all, I love it," Jules said, stepping closer. "It's giving chaos energy. Very punk rock. But also, what happened?"

"A box dye situation gone wrong," Maya muttered. "And I may have accidentally agreed to sell essential oils to Tyler's mom's book club tonight."

Jules stared at her. "You're doing a presentation? With orange hair?"

"I'm doing a presentation with orange hair and exactly no idea what I'm talking about."

"Bold strategy." Jules leaned against the doorframe. "You know Tyler's full of bull, right? Like, actual certified bull. He tried to recruit me into his cryptocurrency thing last month before it turned out to be a scam."

Maya's stomach dropped. "Wait, seriously?"

"Dead seriously." Jules pulled out her phone. "His Instagram is all 'hustle culture' quotes and fake flexes. The boy is living in a pyramid of lies, Maya. Come on."

So that was how Maya ended up skipping the presentation, eating orange sherbet on Jules' front porch at 11 PM while plotting petty revenge against Tyler. The hair was still orange. She was still out however much money she'd spent on those stupid skincare bottles. Her room was still a disaster.

But Jules was right about one thing—her hair did look kind of punk rock.

And tomorrow at school, when Tyler tried to act like nothing had happened? Maya would walk right up to him, radioactive hair and all, and finally say what she'd been too scared to say for months.

No more being anyone's backup plan. No more letting pretty hazel eyes make her stupid.

She was done with bull. And honestly? The orange was growing on her.