The Dog, The Bull, and Me

My hair was supposed to be sunset orange. Instead, it looked like a traffic cone threw up on my head. But I had bigger problems than my DIY hair disaster—like the fact that I was currently hiding in the Bull family's bathroom while a party raged outside.

The Bulls. Like, actual wealthy people with a pool house and a golden retriever named Brody who I'd already accidentally pushed into the pool when he startled me. Now I was hyperventilating because Maya, the girl I'd been crushing on for months, was out there somewhere, probably wondering why I'd been in the bathroom for twenty minutes.

"You okay in there?" a voice called through the door.

My stomach dropped. It was Tyler, Maya's older brother, who was basically a god at our school. captain of the cross country team, running varsity since freshman year, currently wearing swim trunks and looking annoyingly perfect.

"Yeah! Just coming!"

I took one final look at my orange hair in the mirror. Whatever. It was fine. Everything was fine. I opened the door.

Brody the golden retriever shook his wet fur all over my shorts.

"Brody, no!" Maya appeared behind Tyler, laughing. But then her eyes landed on my hair. "Oh my god, did you... did you dye your hair orange?"

"It's supposed to be sunset," I mumbled, my face burning. "But something went wrong."

Maya just stared at me. Tyler started cracking up.

"That's honestly kind of sick," Maya said, grinning. "Like, actually bold. I love it."

Wait, what?

"You want to go swimming?" she asked. "Brody already christened you, might as well join us."

So I did. I jumped into the pool with my orange hair and my soaked shorts, and for the first time all night, I wasn't hiding. Later, Maya and I sat on the pool edge watching Brody chase a tennis ball around the deck while Tyler and his friends debated something stupid about college applications.

"You know," Maya said, bumping my shoulder with hers, "your hair looks pretty sick in the pool lights. Like, actually."

And somehow, that felt bigger than any hair disaster or social anxiety. Somehow, this night wasn't a disaster anymore.

It was just the beginning.