Summer Skin

The hat was stupid. Obviously. A fedora, in 2026. Jordan had found it at the back of a thrift store clearance bin, two dollars and a sudden identity crisis tucked into its sweat-stained band.

"You're gonna wear it?" Maya asked, kicking at his desk chair. She was sprawled on his bed, scrolling through TikTok with practiced boredom.

"Yeah." Jordan adjusted the brim. His palms were sweating. Actually sweating, leaving damp prints on his denim shorts. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Maya sat up, dead serious. "Jordan, you look like you're about to mansplain cryptocurrency to a barista."

That was the thing about Maya—she'd known him since they were seven, back when he was the quiet kid who sat alone at recess and she was the one who'd marched up and demanded he share his animal crackers. Four years of friendship meant she could dismantle his entire reinvention in one sentence.

The hat had been supposed to fix everything. This summer, Jordan was supposed to become someone else—someone confident, someone who didn't overthink every text message, someone who could walk into a party without feeling like their chest was collapsing in on itself. Someone who wore hats.

"My mom started me on these," Jordan said instead, fumbling in his backpack until he produced a neon orange bottle. Vitamin D supplements. "She said I'm inside too much."

"You ARE inside too much." Maya popped the cap and shook two tablets into her hand. "We're inside right now. It's July, Jordan. We should be at the beach. We should be doing things that normal teenagers do."

"Like what?"

"Like exist outdoors without spontaneously combusting." She tossed a vitamin tablet at him. He caught it, reflexes sharp even as everything else felt blurried and uncertain. "Or like going to that party tonight. Remember? The one you've been talking about for two weeks?"

Right. The party. The reason for the hat, the reason for everything.

Jordan's palms left sweat marks on his phone screen when he pulled it out to check the time. 7:43 PM. The party started at eight.

"I can't go like this," he said.

"Like what?"

"Like me." Jordan gestured at himself—scrawny arms, faded t-shirt, the stupid hat that was supposed to transform him into someone brave but just made him feel like a fraud. "I need to be someone else tonight. I need to—"

"No." Maya stood up and walked over, reaching for his hand. Her palm was dry and steady against his shaking fingers. "You need to be exactly who you are. The person who texts me memes at 3 AM when he can't sleep. The person who helped me study for bio even though he's terrible at it. The person who—" She paused. "—who's worth knowing, even if he makes terrible fashion choices sometimes."

She reached up and gently took the hat off his head, setting it on the desk.

"Now come on. We're gonna be late."