Orange Hair & Lightning Strikes

The orange hair dye had been a mistake. Like, a massive mistake. Maya stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror during third period—frizzy, copper-orange disaster hair that made her look like a traffic cone with anxiety issues.

"You look, like, actually fire though," Chloe said, leaning against the sink while reapplying lip gloss. "It's giving main character energy."

Maya mumbled something that sounded like thanks but was actually just vowels.

Ever since she'd bleached her hair orange last week (rebellion against her parents' divorce? Probably?), Maya had been feeling like a zombie—just shuffling through AP Bio, ghosting her friends' texts, existing on iced coffee and what-ifs. Her social battery was permanently at 3%.

So obviously, the smart thing to do was follow Chloe to Jake Miller's house party that night. Obviously.

The party was everything Maya hated: sweat, bass that vibrated in her teeth, people she'd known since kindergarten pretending to be strangers. She ended up on the back porch, orange hair glowing in the porch light like a radioactive beacon.

That's when she saw him.

Ethan. Her ex–best friend. The one who'd stopped texting her back when she got "weird" about the divorce. He was sitting alone on a lawn chair, scrolling through his phone, and Maya suddenly felt creepy—like she was spying on him from the shadows, which she technically was.

She turned to leave, embarrassed, when—BOOM.

Lightning split the sky, close enough that the air tasted like ozone. Rain poured down instantly, soaking everyone. People screamed and ran inside. But Maya stood there, frozen.

Ethan looked up. Their eyes met across the wet lawn.

And then he started laughing.

Not mean laughter. Real laughter. He ran over through the downpour, shoes squelching, and she realized—she wasn't a zombie anymore. Her heart was actually, genuinely beating.

"Your hair," he called over the thunder. "It's insane!"

"I know, right?" she yelled back, and she was grinning. "Worst decision ever."

"No," he said, dripping wet, orange porch light reflecting in his eyes. "It's brave. I missed brave."

The rain kept falling. Maya's orange hair was plastered to her forehead. She was freezing. She was at a party she'd dreaded all week. And she'd never felt more alive.