Poolside Lightning Strikes

My hair was supposed to be sun-kissed caramel. Instead, I emerged from the bathroom looking like a carrot that had been left in the oven too long. "It'll wash out," my best friend Maya had promised, but the damage was done.

Now I was at Tyler's pool party, trying to keep my disastrous hair away from the water like my social life depended on it. Because it kind of did. Tyler was there, of course. His hair fell perfectly over one eye when he laughed, and I was currently avoiding eye contact from behind a very tall bush.

"Hey! You coming in?" someone called. I turned to find Tyler standing there, water dripping from his triceps, holding one of those cheap plastic goldfish from the prize table. Its mouth opened and closed in silent judgment.

"Maybe later," I managed, my voice cracking. Smooth.

A sudden crash of thunder made everyone freeze. The sky had turned a bruised purple, lightning streaking across it like someone had taken a marker to the atmosphere. Everyone screamed and scrambled for the covered porch.

Everyone except me, of course. I slipped on the wet deck and face-planted directly into the snack table. When I finally pushed myself up, humiliated, I noticed something in the reflection of the glass door. There, stuck prominently in my front teeth, was a massive piece of spinach from the dip I'd sworn I wasn't going to eat.

Tyler was right there. He didn't laugh. Instead, he handed me a napkin and said, "I actually like the orange hair. It's brave."

The goldfish bowl on the table caught the flash of another lightning strike, and for a second, everything glittered weirdly perfect. Maybe disasters weren't the end of the world. Maybe they were just how you found out who actually mattered.

"Thanks," I said, and this time, I actually meant it.