Some Serious Bull

The cafeteria practically vibrated with nervous energy. Homecoming week. The week where your entire high school existence got judged in seven days flat.

"You're actually gonna do it?" Marcus asked, poking at his mystery meat Tuesday.

I adjusted the faded trucker cap my dad gave me—the one I'd been wearing all week like it was glued to my skull. "Hell yeah. Bull's eyes don't scare me."

That's right. I'd signed up for the mechanical bull at the homecoming festival. Me. Jordan. The kid who once tripped over their own feet during graduation practice.

"That's some serious bull," Marcus said, deadpan. "You can't even ride the bus without motion sickness."

"Watch me."

The truth? I needed this. My hair had been falling out in clumps since sophomore year—stress, genetics, whatever. The wig itched. The questions were worse. "Are you sick?" "Is it cancer?" "Can I touch it?" Like my scalp was public property.

The hat became my armor. My identity. Under that brim, I wasn't the bald kid anymore.

Friday night hit like a freight train. The mechanical bull sat in the middle of the gym like some alien spacecraft, surrounded by students hyped on adrenaline and terrible decisions.

"Next up—Jordan!" The announcer's voice boomed.

My hands shook. I could feel everyone's eyes—1000 judgy teenagers waiting for me to eat it.

I climbed on. The operator winked. "Hold on tight, kid."

The bull jerked. Left, right, BUCK—

My hat flew off.

The crowd gasped. There it was. My head. My truth. Pale and patchy and completely exposed under those fluorescent gym lights.

Time slowed. I could see Marcus in the front row, eyes wide. Could see Sarah from math class, hand over her mouth. Could feel tears burning the back of my throat.

Then someone started clapping.

One person. Then another. Then the whole gym erupted.

"GO JORDAN!"

I wasn't falling anymore. I was riding. I was FLYING.

Eight seconds. Best time of the night.

I didn't grab my hat when I dismounted. Let it stay on the gym floor where it landed.

"You looked sick up there," Marcus said afterward, grinning. "Like, actually sick."

"That's some serious bull," I shot back, and we both lost it.

My hair might've been gone. But whatever. I found something better underneath.