Static

Maya's hair had always been her thing. Waist-length, dark, obedient—the kind of hair that made teachers go "aww" and boys actually look at her in the hallway instead of through her. So when she showed up to freshman orientation with a buzzcut, you could practically hear the collective gasp ripple through the gymnasium.

"Whoa," someone whispered behind her. "Maya, what—"

"Wanted a change," she said, but her voice shook. She'd spent all summer convincing herself this was empowerment, this was reclaiming her identity from the girl who'd spent 14 years being pretty and quiet and basically nothing else. But standing there in her oversized hoodie, feeling everyone's eyes like little electric shocks on her scalp, she mostly felt naked.

Then KJ appeared at her elbow like he'd apparated there, which was honestly just his thing. He'd been her friend since they'd bonded overshared trauma in sixth period math—his trauma: failing; hers: being the only person who'd let him copy her homework.

"Looking intense, Ramirez," KJ said, grinning. But then he actually looked at her, really looked, and his grin softened into something else. "Actually, you look... kinda badass."

Maya's shoulders dropped three inches. "You think?"

"I know," he said, and then he frowned. "Also, your hair is literally standing straight up. What is that?"

Maya reached up and sure enough, the little spikes were practically vibrating, doing their best electrocuted-cat impression. "I don't—"

CRACK.

Thunder shook the floor beneath them as lightning flashed through the skylights, bright enough to turn everything briefly negative. Someone screamed. Someone else laughed. And the lights died, plunging the gym into darkness and sudden chaos.

KJ's hand found her arm in the dark. "You okay?"

Maya's heart was going haywire, but not from the storm. "Yeah," she said, and realized it was true. KJ was there, her friend who'd seen her through braces and bad haircuts and that time she cried in the bathroom after getting rejected by student council, and somehow this—this weird, electric moment in the dark—felt like the start of something real.

"Your hair's still sticking up," KJ whispered.

"Static," she whispered back.

"Yeah," he said, and she could hear the smile in it. "Guess that's us, right? Static. Always making noise."