The Bear Hat Catastrophe

The ridiculous fuzzy brown **hat** with round bear ears sat mocking me from my sister's bed. I'd grabbed it by mistake when my alarm didn't go off—again—and now I was stuck wearing this monstrosity to school because Mom had already left for work and I couldn't be late. Not today. Not when Alex from AP Bio might actually look at me.

I pulled the **bear** ears as low as possible, praying nobody would notice. Fat chance. My best friend Maya practically spit out her mango **vitamin** water when she saw me at my locker.

"What is happening?" she wheezed, laughing so hard people were staring. "Did you lose a bet?"

"Sleep deprivation," I muttered. "Don't ask."

The hallway was packed. I could feel everyone's eyes on me like physical weight, my face burning so hot I thought I might actually catch fire. I was **bearing** the soul-crushing embarrassment of my life, and I hadn't even made it to first period yet.

Then I saw him.

Alex. Standing at his locker. Looking right at me.

I considered faking sudden illness. Maybe bolting for the bathroom. But then his lips quirked up, and he actually walked over.

"Nice hat," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "You cold or something?"

"Something like that," I squeaked.

"Well," he said, "it's definitely original." He smiled—an actual smile. "See you in Bio."

Maya was practically vibrating beside me. "Did that just happen?"

"I think I need to sit down," I said.

But here's the thing: nobody made fun of me. Not really. Some people laughed, sure, but in a "oh my god that's random" way, not a "you're a loser" way. By lunch, I'd gotten three fist bumps and someone asked if they could try it on.

Sometimes the worst thing that could happen isn't actually that bad. Sometimes you just have to own the **bear** hat and hope for the best.