Orange Hair Don't Care

Maya stared at her reflection, the fluorescent bathroom light casting a harsh glow over her newly orange hair. It wasn't the subtle sunset ombré she'd pictured—it was more like a traffic cone explosion. But whatever. Her mom would freak, her friends would roast her, and she'd probably cry in the bathroom third period. Worth it.

Her iPhone buzzed on the counter. TikTok notification. Again. She scrolled through endless videos of people with perfect lives, perfect skin, perfect hair that wasn't currently resembling a radioactive pumpkin. Sometimes being sixteen felt like being a zombie—shuffling through school halls, half-alive, controlled by the algorithm brain.

"MAYA!" Her little brother Leo burst in. "There's literally a bear in the backyard!"

"Yeah, and I'm literally Zendaya," Maya deadpanned, but followed him anyway.

Outside, past the sliding glass door, something massive stirred near the trees. Maya froze. It actually was a bear. A real one, lumbering through their suburban backyard like it owned the place.

Her hands shook as she fumbled for her phone. Instagram story MATERIAL. But as she raised the device, something stopped her. The bear paused, nose twitching, watching something intently. An orange? No—an orange tabby cat, their neighbor's missing pet, cowering under the deck.

The bear didn't attack. It just watched, then turned away, disappearing into the woods beyond.

Maya stood there, phone forgotten in hand. Later, when her friends flooded her texts with "OMG your HAIR" and "what happened" and "r u okay," she finally replied.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

And for the first time in forever, it wasn't a lie. Some days you feel like a zombie, some days your hair looks like a disaster, and sometimes you realize the scariest things in life aren't the ones hiding in the woods—they're the ones living inside your head.

She touched her orange hair. Whatever. It was bold. It was hers. And sometimes that was enough.