The Bear Meme Incident

I was running late—again, obviously—when my iPhone decided to go full drama queen and die at 7%. I'd spent forty-five minutes curling my hair, only for it to frizz up the second I stepped outside, because that's just how my life works.

"You're not gonna believe this," Maya said, pulling up beside me in the hallway. She waved her phone in my face. "Someone posted a TikTok about that bear outside the 7-Eleven last night. It's literally viral."

I stopped. My stomach did that thing where it drops into my shoes.

"What bear?" I asked, trying to sound casual while my internal monologue was screaming at maximum volume.

"You didn't see it? Some kid in an orange hoodie was recorded chasing it off. But here's the thing." Maya gave me this look. "The kid in the video? They were wearing your shoes."

I died. Right there. Death by exposure.

"That wasn't me," I lied, because I literally couldn't process what was happening.

Maya smirked. "Chill, I know it was you. You literally posted an IG story about your orange hoodie yesterday. Which, by the way, looked terrible on you."

I glared at her. Maya's been my best friend since sixth grade, which means she's legally required to roast me at least three times per day.

"It was a DYE JOB gone wrong, Maya. Not my fault the box lied."

"Anyway," she said, scrolling through her phone. "The guy who posted it tagged your backup account. You're going to wake up to like, five hundred notifications tomorrow."

I ran my hand through my frizzy hair and considered the merits of moving to Canada.

"But here's the thing," Maya continued, her voice dropping to that conspiratorial whisper she uses when there's gossip. "Tyler from AP Calc commented on it."

I froze. Tyler. The Tyler I'd been lowkey obsessed with since September.

"What did he say?" I asked, trying to sound like I didn't care, which is literally impossible when it comes to Tyler.

Maya grinned. "He said, 'That's actually kind of legendary.'"

I felt this weird surge in my chest. Not panic. Something else.

"Legendary?"

"Legendary."

I pulled my dead iPhone from my pocket and stared at the black screen. Last night, standing between that bear and the 7-Eleven doors, clutching a bag of Takis, I'd never felt more ridiculous in my entire life. Now? Running toward first period with Maya beside me, my frizzy hair and my terrible dye job and my dead phone and my five minutes of internet fame approaching like a freight train—I didn't hate it.

Sometimes the most embarrassing moments become the origin stories you actually kind of love.

"You know what?" I said, straightening my backpack. "Let him comment."

Maya laughed. "That's the spirit. Also, your hair looks fine."

"You're literally lying."

"Yeah, but you're owning it."

And honestly? That felt like enough.