The Friday Night Freak Show

Maya stared at her reflection, finger-combing her hair for the thousandth time. It was still a frizzy mess, defying every product she'd slapped on it. Her phone buzzed again—texts from the group chat blowing up about Liam's party tonight, the first one of sophomore year that actually mattered.

Her parents had already left for their anniversary dinner, leaving her with strict instructions to "have fun but be responsible." Right. Like that was happening. Pancake, their rescue cat, wound around her ankles, meowing for dinner. Maya scooped him up, burying her face in his soft orange fur. "At least you don't care if I'm socially awkward, Panky."

Two hours later, she stood outside Liam's door, heart hammering. She'd spent an hour trying different hairstyles, finally giving up and pulling her hair into a messy bun. But the real problem was the stupid green beanie she'd grabbed on impulse—her brother's old hat from middle school that she "borrowed" without asking. It covered her hair, at least.

Inside, the music thumped. People were everywhere. Maya grabbed a soda, leaning against the wall like a total loser until—

"Hey, isn't that your brother's zombie hat from his emo phase?"

Maya froze. It was Tyler, looking annoyingly perfect with his friends. "Yeah, it's from his zombie obsession eighth grade. Why?"

"No reason." He smirked. "Just wondering if you're channeling his middle school awkwardness."

Before Maya could retort, someone tapped her shoulder. A girl with purple streaks in her hair—Zoey, from her English class—leaned close. "Don't listen to him. Tyler's just projecting 'cause he's still bitter about his own zombie Halloween costume from seventh grade."

Maya blinked. Then noticed something in Zoey's phone camera reflection. "Wait, is there..."

"Spinach," Zoey whispered, grimacing. "From whatever you ate before coming here."

Maya wanted to die. RIGHT there.

"Bathroom. Now." Zoey grabbed her arm. "And ditch the hat. Your hair's fine."

Inside the bathroom, Zoey handed her a mirror. "See? Not as bad as you think. And hey, if anyone asks, we'll tell 'em we're starting a zombie resistance group."

Maya cracked up. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious." Zoey winked. "Besides, my cat would approve. He's a judgy little fluffball who hates everyone except me."

"You have a cat?" Maya lit up. "I have an orange tabby who thinks he runs the house."

"No way." Zoey gasped. "We should definitely start a cat parent club."

They spent the rest of the party trading cat stories and making fun of Tyler's terrible dance moves. The hat stayed off. The spinach was long gone. And for the first time since middle school started, Maya felt like she might actually belong here.

"Same time next week?" Zoey asked as they left. "There's this café downtown that lets you bring—no joke—actual cat treats for their shop cats."

Maya grinned. "Try stopping me."

Her hair was still messy. Her social skills were still questionable. But she'd made a real friend, found an awesome café, and survived Tyler's teasing. She'd call that a win.