Raw

The braces were supposed to come off next month. Just in time for sophomore year, when everything would finally be different.

Instead, I was hiding in the bathroom at Tyler's party, picking stubborn pieces of spinach out of the metal wires with my fingernail. Music thumped through the door - muffled bass, people laughing. Everyone out there was having the time of their lives. I was in here, inspecting my reflection like my social survival depended on it.

"Yo, you okay in there?"

I froze. It was Jordan. THE Jordan. The one who'd transferred from Oak Creek last month and already had the entire sophomore class simping. "Yeah, just, uh - fixing my brace face situation."

"Gotcha. Take your time." Their voice was warm. Unbothered.

I finally got the last piece of spinach out and emerged to find Jordan leaning against the wall, scrolling on their phone. They wore this oversized orange sweatshirt that looked cozy and intentional, not like they'd thrown it on last minute like everything I owned.

"Wanna get some air?" Jordan asked. "It's bearable out there for like five minutes max."

I laughed before I could stop myself. They'd made a PUN. A BEAR pun. Because we live like twenty minutes from actual bears and people make jokes about it constantly and it's NOT FUNNY except somehow when Jordan said it, it kind of was.

We ended up on the back porch, watching Tyler's little brother jump on a trampoline in the dark. The cable from their Netflix setup snaked along the wall, and someone had tripped over it earlier, sending a speaker crashing. Chaos.

"So," Jordan said. "Braces, huh?"

"Unfortunately. Getting them off next month though."

"Nice." They took a sip from their water bottle. "I had this huge gap between my front teeth until seventh grade. Had this whole fixed retainer situation. Was convinced it made me look like a rat."

"No way. Your teeth are perfect."

"NOW they're perfect. Four years of orthodontic torture later." Jordan laughed. "Middle school was literally brutal. I wanted to disappear every single day."

Something loosened in my chest. Jordan Oak Creek, who everyone loved and obsessed over, had hated their teeth in middle school?

"I still feel like that," I admitted. "Like, always."

"Me too," Jordan said. "Mostly. But it gets easier."

We sat there for another hour, talking about nothing and everything, while inside the party raged on without us. By the time I left, I'd forgotten to care about my hair or my outfit or any of the stuff that felt life-or-death when I walked in.

The braces were still there, obviously. But the rest of it? The constant overthinking? The feeling that I was doing everything wrong?

That felt a little less heavy, somehow.