Orange Shirt Syndrome

Marcus regretted the orange shirt the moment he walked into Jessica's house party. Like, actually regretted it. In a sea of black hoodies and oversized flannel, he was glowing like a traffic cone.

"Bro, you look like a traffic cone," Tyler said, appearing beside him with a Solo cup. "That's the vibe."

"Shut up," Marcus muttered, pulling at the collar.

Tyler, who'd been Marcus's best friend since sixth grade, just laughed. "Relax. You're overthinking it. Everyone's gonna be too busy trying to look chill to notice your shirt."

But Marcus couldn't relax. This was his first real house party since transferring to Northwood High, and he was still trying to figure out where he fit in. The social ecosystem here was way more complicated than his old school. There were hierarchies and unspoken rules and probably like eight different kinds of cool.

A golden retriever mix wandered through the crowd, snagging a chip from someone's dropped plate.

"That's the realest one here," Marcus said, nodding at the dog.

"Barnaby? Yeah, he's the MVP," Tyler agreed. "Unlike whatever's happening in the kitchen."

Marcus followed his gaze. Standing near the island was Chloe, the junior everyone was lowkey obsessed with. She was laughing at something some guy said, her hair falling in that perfect way that seemed simultaneously effortless and calculated. She was a total fox—that's what Tyler had called her on the first day, anyway—and Marcus had been trying to work up the courage to talk to her for weeks.

"Dude, just go talk to her," Tyler said, reading his mind.

"I can't just—you know what, never mind."

"You're being weird."

"I'm NOT being—okay, maybe I'm being a little weird. But what do I even say? 'Hey, nice party, nice weather, I like your vibe?'"

Tyler facepalmed. "Please, for the love of everything holy, do NOT say that."

Before Marcus could respond, Chloe noticed them and waved. Then she was walking over, and his heart was doing something concerning, and why had he worn this shirt.

"Hey!" she said. "I like your shirt. It's bold."

Marcus blinked. "Oh. Thanks."

"I'm Chloe, by the way. We have English together? You sit two rows back."

"Right. Yeah. Marcus."

"Marcus," she repeated, like she was testing it out. "Cool. You want to come see something?"

"Uh, sure."

She led him through the crowded living room to a quieter corner where a fish tank bubbled against the wall. Inside, a single goldfish swam in circles.

"His name is Jerry," she said. "I'm pretty sure he has the memory span of, like, three seconds. Every time around the tank is a whole new adventure."

Marcus laughed. "Sounds kind of nice, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. No overthinking. Just swimming."

Chloe looked at him, really looked at him, and smiled. "I like that. Your brain, I mean. Not, like—wait, that sounded weird."

"No, I get what you mean," Marcus said, and he realized he was smiling too. "Your brain's also nice. Not weird at all."

They stood there for a minute, watching Jerry the goldfish navigate his tiny universe, while somewhere behind them, Tyler was probably losing his mind. And maybe the orange shirt wasn't so bad after all.