Orange Shoelaces

Maya's sneakers were falling apart. The left one had a hole near the toe, and both laces were frayed beyond dignity. But it was the right shoelace that really told the story – bright orange, like she'd replaced it with something from a Halloween store.

"Nice Halloween costume," Jordan had deadpanned that morning, gesturing at her feet with that smirk that made Maya's stomach do weird things.

"These are VINTAGE," Maya shot back, though they were absolutely not vintage. They were just tragic.

She'd been running late (again) because her little brother had "accidentally" hid her backpack, and now she was speed-walking to school like her life depended on it. The orange lace kept catching her eye, flopping against the gray rubber with every step. It was embarrassingly noticeable.

Jordan fell into step beside her, which was new. They'd been in the same homeroom since seventh grade, but Jordan existed in the stratosphere of people who got invited to parties and had their Instagram stories actually viewed. Maya existed more in the Instagram-posting-but-nobody-likes-it tier.

"My cousin works at Foot Locker," Jordan said out of nowhere. "Employee discount, like fifty percent off."

Maya blinked. "Oh. Cool."

"I could probably hook you up. If you wanted."

The thing was, Maya did want. Her feet were basically pleading for mercy at this point. But also, this was Jordan. The same Jordan who sat with the popular crowd at lunch and had somehow convinced the entire eighth grade that lemon-flavored Doritos were good (they weren't).

"Why?" Maya asked before she could stop herself.

Jordan shrugged, looking at anything but Maya. "I figured, you know, you're always running around. Track, student council, that tutoring thing. You deserve shoes that don't look like they've been through a woodchipper."

Maya felt her face get hot. Jordan noticed what she did?

"The orange lace," Jordan continued, "is kind of a vibe, though. No lie."

Maya snorted. "It was the only one they had at the gas station."

"Obviously." Jordan grinned, and Maya's stomach did that thing again. "So, Foot Locker this weekend? My treat. Employee discount goes pretty far."

"Only if you help me pick something decent," Maya said. "I have zero taste."

"Deal." Jordan bumped her shoulder against Maya's. "And hey, maybe you can keep the orange lace. For the aesthetic."

Maya looked down at her ridiculous shoe, flopping along with every step. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

"You know what?" she said. "I think I just might."