The Cable Guy Conspiracy

Maya's **hair** was having a personality crisis, and so was she. Half-crimped, half-frizzy, it defied physics and dignity—much like her current position crouched behind the living room couch, peering through a gap in the blinds like the world's least competent **spy**.

She was supposed to be studying for AP Bio. Instead, she was conducting surveillance on the cable guy, who was suspiciously cute and suspiciously taking his time with whatever **cable**-related things cable guys did behind the TV console.

"What are you doing?" Her little brother Zane appeared beside her, chewing cereal with his mouth open. "Watching him? That's not creepy."

"I'm not watching him," Maya lied, her sweaty **palm** leaving a foggy print on the window. "I'm monitoring his technique. For... future reference."

"You're literally in your pajamas with fuzz on them." Zane swallowed. "Also, Mom said you got a B on your math test, so maybe focus on that instead of the cable guy's glutes?"

Maya's face burned hotter than her straightener that morning. "I hate you. Go away."

"He's looking this way," Zane announced helpfully. "You should wave. Or duck. Ducking seems more your style."

Maya ducked, sliding down the wall until she hit the floor. This was fine. This was normal. She was a cool, collected seventeen-year-old who definitely didn't hide from cable technicians.

"You know," Zane said, crunching another mouthful, "he's probably just bored. You should go say hi. What's the worst that happens?"

"I die of embarrassment and change schools?"

"Or you make a new friend who knows how to fix WiFi." Zane shrugged. "Your WiFi's been trash since 2019."

Maya looked at her disaster hair in the mirror reflection of the dark TV screen. What was she doing? She was overthinking everything, always—her hair, her grades, her chances of ever becoming a functional human who could talk to other humans without imploding.

She stood up, smoothed her hopeless hair, and walked to the door.

"Hey," she said to the cable guy, who turned around and smiled.

"Hey yourself," he said. "Your WiFi's all set up now."

"Thanks," Maya said, and then, because why not, "I'm Maya. I like your... cable expertise."

He laughed. "I'm Leo. And I like your hair. It's got vibe."

Maya's **palm** stopped sweating. Maybe her hair wasn't a crisis. Maybe she wasn't either.

"Want to see my terrible WiFi setup?" she offered.

"Absolutely."