The Bull in the Bathroom Mirror

I stared at my reflection, fingers yanking at the knots in my hair. Again. Third time this week Mom's insisting I get it cut short before freshman year. "You'll look professional," she says. "Like someone who takes things seriously."

Whatever that means.

The bathroom mirror showed a kid who didn't recognize herself anymore. Summer had changed everything — my body, my face, even the way my hair curled in weird directions now. The vitamin gummies on the counter mocked me. Mom swore they'd help me "grow into my features" but honestly? They just made my pee turn neon.

Downstairs, the TV blared. Dad was watching baseball highlights again, probably analyzing some player's form like his opinion matters. He'd been on my case all summer about joining the team. "You've got the build, Maya. Don't waste it." Like my body exists for his midlife crisis.

I grabbed my phone and flopped onto my bed, earbud cable tangling around my fingers. TikTok was a minefield of perfect girls with perfect hair and perfect lives. How did everyone else have this figured out?

Then my phone buzzed. Jake.

"Pool party at 5. U coming?"

My stomach did that thing where it forgets how to be an organ. Jake. The guy who'd sat behind me in homeroom since seventh freaking grade, who I'd somehow never noticed until he got hot over the summer. Who definitely didn't care about baseball or perfect hair or any of it.

"Maybe," I typed back. "What's the vibe?"

"Chill. Just some ppl from the team. No pressure."

I stared at my ceiling fan. This is it. The moment where I either stay safe or become someone who actually does things.

"I'm in," I wrote. "But I'm bringing snacks."

"Deal. See u soon."

I stood up and looked in the mirror one more time. The knots in my hair could wait. For once, I was done letting other people call the shots. It was time to step up to the plate — even if I swung and missed, at least I'd be playing.