The Bear The Cat The Bad Hair Day

Maya's hair had declared war. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, her curls had morphed into something resembling a electrocuted poodle. This would've been fine on a Tuesday, but today was Friday—the day Jordan had actually noticed her existence in AP Bio.

"You look like a bear that got struck by lightning," her brother Leo observed from the doorway, leaning against the frame with that annoying older-brother smirk. "Endearing, but chaotic."

"Shut up, Leo." Maya attacked her hair with a brush. "I have to look normal today."

"Why?" He stepped into the room, his sudden seriousness making her pause. "Because Jordan might talk to you again?"

Heat flooded her cheeks. "No one asked you."

"I'm just saying." Leo shrugged, heading toward his room. "You're overthinking it. You always do."

He was right, obviously. Which was annoying.

Maya spent twenty minutes fighting her hair into submission before giving up and throwing it into a messy bun. Whatever. If Jordan couldn't handle post-apocalyptic hair, that was his problem.

She grabbed her backpack and headed for the door, only to find herself face-to-face with Mrs. Henderson's cat, Barnaby, who had somehow escaped again. The orange tabby regarded her with judgmental yellow eyes from the front porch.

"What?" she snapped. "You got something to say about my hair too?"

Barnaby blinked slowly, then trotted over and rubbed against her leg, purring like a tiny motor.

Maya sighed, crouching down. "You're just saying that because you want food."

But something about the cat's absolute indifference to her appearance made her chest loosen. Barnaby didn't care about Jordan, or high school, or whether her hair looked like she'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket. Barnaby just wanted pets and possibly tuna.

"Hey, wait—" Leo caught up with her at the sidewalk. "I meant what I said earlier."

"About the bear thing? Rude."

"No." He handed her his phone, open to Instagram. "I saw this post about that underground art show downtown. The one with the weird sculptures. Thought you'd want to know."

Maya stared at him. He remembered?

"You're not terrible," she said finally, because actual thanks would be too much.

"I know." Leo grinned. "Also, your hair looks fine. You look like Mom when she was your age."

Maya's breath caught. That was different. That was actually kind of nice.

"Don't push it," she muttered, but she was already reaching up to let her hair loose from the bun. The curls tumbled down, wild and messy and completely unmanageable. Whatever. Let it be a bear hair day. Let it be whatever day it wanted to be.

At school, Jordan did talk to her. And Maya's hair did exactly zero percent of the work. But that's a story for another time.