The Bear in the Room

Maya's mom called it "zombie mode" — that glazed-over expression Maya got when she'd been scrolling TikTok for three hours instead of studying for finals. But honestly? Being a zombie sounded easier than being sixteen and trying to figure out who she was supposed to be.

Her hair had been a disaster since she'd attempted to dye it purple last weekend. Now it was this weird splotchy mess that made her look like she'd lost a fight with a grape soda fountain. She pulled her hood up lower in the hallway, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might actually look at her.

"Nice hair," Ryan's voice drifted over. Ryan, with his perfect everything and his girlfriend who definitely owned more than three hoodies.

Maya's face burned. She'd been low-key spying on his Instagram stories for months now — not like, creepy stalking, just... appreciation from afar. The algorithm kept feeding her his posts, and who was she to argue with technology?

"Thanks," she muttered, already planning her escape to the bathroom.

"Wait." Ryan stepped in front of her. "I actually mean it. It's... different. But like, in a cool way."

Maya blinked. Was this a prank? Where was the hidden camera?

"My sister did something similar last year," Ryan continued. "Mine looked worse for months. Thought I'd have to shave it all off and start fresh."

A tiny laugh escaped Maya's throat before she could stop it. "You dyed your hair?"

"Blue streaks freshman year," Ryan admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I was being edgy. Turns out I just looked like I'd lost a fight with a cotton candy machine."

The image of Ryan — popular, confident, seemingly-perfect Ryan — with terrible blue hair made something in Maya's chest loosen. Like she'd been holding her breath all semester and finally remembered how to exhale.

"Well," she said, pushing her hood back. "At least you can pull it off now."

Ryan shrugged. "Eh. Nobody's got it all figured out. We're all just pretending." He glanced at his phone. "Hey, I'm going to this cosplay thing downtown next weekend. My friends are doing zombie makeup tutorials if you want to come? No pressure."

Maya thought about the stuffed bear still sitting on her bed at home — Mr. Cuddles, the one she'd secretly slept with until last year because it made her feel safe. The one she'd been too embarrassed to throw away but too ashamed to admit she still loved.

"Yeah," she heard herself say. "Actually, I'd love that."

Later that night, she texted her best friend: I think I might survive this year after all.

And for the first time in forever, she actually believed it.