Orange Hoodie Apocalypse

The orange hoodie was my armor against the world—or at least against the judgmental eyes of everyone in the cafeteria. I'd bought it two sizes too big at the thrift store, thinking oversized was a vibe. Now I just looked like a traffic cone trying to hide in plain sight.

I pulled my hood lower and went full zombie mode, letting my eyes glaze over as I pretended to study. Truth was, I wasn't reading my AP Euro textbook. I was executing a highly classified operation: spying on Mia's lunch table from behind the safety of my book barricade.

She sat three tables away, laughing at something Tyler said. Tyler, whose hair somehow always looked perfect even though we'd just had PE. Tyler, who was probably discussing something actually interesting instead of mentally calculating the exact angle needed to avoid eye contact with the entire junior class.

"Dude, you good?" Marcus slid into the seat across from me, snapping his fingers. "You've been staring at that same page for like, ten minutes. And your eyes are fully dead."

"I'm conducting research," I muttered, though my face was probably the temperature of the sun.

"On the French Revolution?"

"On social dynamics. It's basically anthropology."

The cafeteria doors swung open and Jason walked in—well, stalked in, really—like he owned the entire school. He zeroed in on Mia and Tyler's table immediately. I watched it all unfold like it was happening in slow motion. Jason interrupted their conversation, got in Tyler's face, pointed a finger at his chest.

"Oh my god, what is Jason doing?" Marcus asked.

"Being a complete bull," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

The same Jason who'd spent all last year making my life hell in middle school. Who'd tripped me in the hallway so hard I'd chipped my tooth. Who was now terrorizing someone else, someone I couldn't even protect.

Something in me snapped. Maybe it was the orange hoodie giving me false confidence. Maybe it was the zombie fatigue from caring too much about what people thought. But suddenly I was standing, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Hey Jason!" I called out, my voice cracking but audible. "Your shoe's untied."

It wasn't. But he looked down anyway.

The entire cafeteria erupted into laughter. Jason's face turned the exact color of my hoodie. I sat back down, heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

When I looked up, Mia was looking at me. Actually looking at me. She mouthed "thank you" and smiled.

My zombie act was officially over. Being the traffic cone wasn't so bad after all.