Orange Hair, Open Heart

Maya stood in front of her bathroom mirror, plastic gloves on, breathing in the sharp chemical scent of hair dye. Her mom's question echoed in her head: *Why orange?* But Maya didn't have an answer—not one that made sense, anyway. Maybe she just wanted to stop blending into the background like some NPC in everyone else's story. The dye burned slightly on her scalp, a good kind of burn. The burn of becoming someone new.

At school the next day, Fox—that was his real last name, but everyone called him that—actually noticed her. "Your hair," he said in study hall, sliding into the seat beside her like he owned the air around them. "It's... bold."

Bold. Maya's stomach did that stupid little flip thing. Fox Evans, the guy whose Instagram she checked way too often, was talking to her. She caught herself wondering how many times she'd spy on his stories at midnight, double-tapping old posts like a total creep.

"Thanks," she managed, trying to play it cool. Casual. Like she hadn't practiced this moment a hundred times in her head.

"You coming to Jordan's party Friday?" Fox asked. "My cousin's band is playing."

"Maybe," Maya said, though she'd already cleared it with her parents. She wasn't about to seem desperate.

That night, the cable went out during her favorite show. Her dad cursed at the router like it had personally offended him, flipping breakers and unplugging things with dramatic frustration. Maya didn't care. She lay on her bed, phone in hand, watching Fox's Instagram story update. A grainy video of him playing guitar, caption: *practicing for Friday.*

She screenshot it before it disappeared, heart pounding. She was definitely going to that party. Orange hair and all.