Orange Theory

My aunt's pug, Sir Barksalot, stared at me with judgmental eyes while I stood in the middle of the cafeteria, clutching a bottle of gummy vitamins like they were contraband.

"You gonna stand there all day or actually sit somewhere?"

I jumped. Jordan—the coolest junior at Northwood High—was leaning against the pillar near the trash cans, orange hair perfectly messy like she'd just rolled out of bed looking fantastic.

"I'm... weighing my options," I lied.

"The vitamin gummies giving you superpowers?" She grinned. "Or just making you paranoid?"

My face burned. I'd popped three earlier, hoping maybe they'd magically cure my social anxiety. Instead, here I was, trapped in conversation with the girl I'd been lowkey stalking on Instagram since freshman year.

"They're for my immune system," I mumbled. "Flu season."

"Uh huh." She pushed off the pillar. "My dog ate my homework once. Literally. Mr. Henderson didn't buy it until I brought in the shredded remains."

"Wait—you have a dog?"

"A Golden named Nacho. He's basically my emotional support animal. Why? You judging?"

"No! I'm dogsitting my aunt's pug. He's currently judging me from home."

Jordan's eyes lit up. "No way. What's his name?"

"Sir Barksalot."

She burst out laughing, and something in my chest did this weird flutter thing. "Okay, you're officially not as awkward as I thought. Come sit with me and my friend Luna. We're in the back corner, plotting world domination."

The vitamin gummies had done nothing. But somehow, standing there with Jordan's laugh still echoing in my ears, I felt something shift. Maybe confidence wasn't something you could supplement your way into. Maybe it was just about showing up, even when your hands were shaking and some pug was waiting at home to judge your life choices.

"So," Jordan said, already walking away. "You coming or what?"

I tightened my grip on the vitamin bottle and followed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming."

Sir Barksalot would just have to wait.