Orange Hair Rising

I never thought I'd be caught dead at the community pool with Liam from my AP Bio class, yet here we were. Both of us failing miserably at the prerequisite swimming test for junior lifeguard training.

"Dude, you're literally drowning," Liam said, splashing water in my face. He was treading water with that effortless athletic grace I'd always envied, while I was flailing like I'd never encountered a pool before.

"I'm fine," I lied, coughing up chlorinated water. My bright orange one-piece - a clearance rack impulse buy I immediately regretted - was practically screaming for attention. My mom's voice echoed in my head: "You could've picked a more subtle color, Maya."

Coach Miller blew her whistle. "Okay, last lap! And Maya - try not to look like you're fighting off a shark attack this time!"

The whole pool deck laughed. I felt my face burning hotter than the summer sun. But then Liam swam over, water droplets clinging to his eyelashes like diamonds.

"Hey," he said quietly. "My little sister has this goldfish that sucks at swimming. It just floats at the top of the tank looking dramatic." He grinned. "You're doing better than the goldfish."

I snorted, accidentally inhaling more pool water. "Wow. Thanks. That's definitely the most backhanded compliment I've ever received."

"No, I mean..." Liam's cheeks turned pink. "The goldfish is actually fine. It's just... different. It doesn't swim like the others, but it's still thriving, you know?"

I looked down at my orange swimsuit, my orange-painted toenails, my wild frizzy orange hair that I'd spent years trying to tame with expensive products. Different. Always different.

"Race you?" Liam asked suddenly.

"What?"

"To the other end. Loser buys slushies after."

I don't know what came over me - maybe it was the way he wasn't laughing at me, or the way the pool lights made the water sparkle like I was swimming through actual stars. But I said, "You're on."

I didn't win. I came in last, actually, while Liam did a victory lap that had everyone cheering. But as I pulled myself out of the water, dripping and exhausted and laughing so hard my sides hurt, I caught my reflection in the pool building's glass doors. Orange hair plastered to my face, orange swimsuit shining in the sun, orange towel slung over my shoulder.

I looked kind of... cool. Like a mermaid who'd just survived a storm.

"Nice race," Liam said, handing me a slushie that matched my swimsuit perfectly. "Next week, same time?"

I took a sip, blue and red swirling together in the most perfect orange. "Definitely."

Some things don't need to change. They just need the right person to help you see them clearly.