The Bear Under the Bed

I pulled my beanie down lower, trying to disappear into the couch cushions. My older sister's graduation party raged outside — the splashing of the pool, the bass from some terrible playlist, fake laughter echoing across the backyard. My cousin Kai'd been texting me all week about how much I needed to "socialize" and "put myself out there," but honestly? I'd rather eat glass.

"Alex!" Sarah appeared in the doorway, holding out a gummy vitamin like it was contraband. "Your mom said you forgot your supplements. Again."

I groaned. "I'm not taking those. They taste like regret and artificial grape."

"Whatever." She popped two into her mouth like candy. "Your loss. I need all the help I can get — finals week literally killed my soul."

The cable connecting the TV to the streaming stick lay coiled like a dead snake on the floor. Someone'd tripped over it earlier, sending the screen flickering. The house felt too full, too loud, too everything.

Then I saw him.

Tyler from my calc class, dripping wet in board shorts, shaking water from his hair like a golden retriever. My stomach did that thing where it forgot how to organ function. He spotted my stuffed bear — Mr. Cuddles, don't judge — peeking out from under my bed where I'd shoved him that morning.

"Is that..." Tyler picked up the bear, water still clinging to his eyelashes. "I have one exactly like that. Still sleep with him every night."

My face burned. "I was, um, cleaning. And I—"

"Dude, it's cool." His dimles appeared. "Everyone has stuff. Last week I cried watching Finding Nemo. No judgment."

The tension in my chest loosened. Maybe Kai was right. Maybe I didn't need to hide — not under my hat, not behind my phone, not even from myself.

"Wanna play Mario Kart?" Tyler asked, already reaching for a controller. "I call Toad."

"You're on," I said, pulling off my hat and letting my hair fall free. "But I'm warning you — I don't go easy."

For the first time all summer, I didn't want to disappear.