Orange Soda at Midnight

Maya's hair refused to cooperate. She'd spent forty-five minutes trying to perfect her beach waves—because apparently that's what Tyler liked—but now they looked more like beach disaster. Her phone buzzed again. Another Insta story from the party she wasn't at yet.

She grabbed her iPhone off the bed, thumb hovering over Jordan's text. "U coming or nah? It's lit rn."

"On my way," she typed back, lying.

Her brother's giant stuffed bear from that carnival last year stared at her from the corner of the room, its plastic eyes judging her outfit choice. Whatever. She looked fine. She looked—okay, maybe a little trying too hard, but whatever. Fourteen was the age of trying too hard.

The kitchen was dark when she snuck in. Just wanted an orange soda from the fridge before heading out. Liquid courage, sort of. Her mom's voice stopped her cold.

"Maya?"

Frozen. Busted. The soda can clicked against the shelf as her hand shook. She turned around, expecting the talk about staying out late, about homework, about responsibility.

Instead, her mom was sitting at the counter in the dark, eating cereal at midnight. In her pajama bottoms and Maya's old middle school hoodie. The one with the stain on the sleeve.

"Your hair looks nice," her mom said. "You going to Jordan's?"

"Yeah."

Her mom nodded, spoon hovering over her Froot Loops. "Tyler gonna be there?"

Maya's face burned. "Maybe."

"He likes your hair natural, you know. When it's all..." She waved her hand in circles. "Not all this." She gestured at the curling wand still plugged in upstairs.

Maya blinked. "Wait, what?"

"I hear things. I also hear you stressing about this party for three days." Her mom crunched a spoonful of cereal. "You want some orange soda? I won't tell your dad you're drinking sugar at midnight."

Something in Maya's chest loosened. She grabbed another can from the fridge. The crack of the tab echoed.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you ever feel like everyone else knows the rules and you're just... guessing?"

Her mom laughed, actually laughed. "Every single day, baby. Every single day." She slid the cereal box toward her. "Want some? Tyler can wait."

The party was still happening. Jordan was still texting. But Maya sat down next to her mom in the dark kitchen, hair perfectly imperfect, iPhone buzzing ignored on the counter. She poured herself some Froot Loops.

They could wait.