The Goldfish Principle

Maya's hair had a mind of its own. Specifically, it wanted to be bright orange—a disaster of DIY dye that had turned her school picture into a warning label for future generations. Now she was stuck with this radioactive copper mess until it grew out, which her mom helpfully reminded her would take approximately forever.

"You look like a traffic cone," Jason announced at lunch, because the universe had assigned him the role of Maya's personal tormentor since kindergarten. His friends laughed, that synchronized chorus that made her stomach do that awful twisting thing.

"At least I have personality," Maya shot back, though her voice cracked slightly.

She spent the rest of lunch hiding in the library, watching the school's ancient goldfish swim in endless circles around its tiny bowl. The fish, whose name was technically "Bubbles" though Maya called him Kevin, had the same blank stare she'd been perfecting since The Hair Incident.

"Kevin," she whispered, pressing her face against the glass, "you're living the dream. No expectations. Just swimming and looking at people like they're crazy."

Kevin blew a bubble in response. Deep.

That afternoon, Maya found herself running late for pick-up because she'd gotten caught up watching Kevin's mesmerizingly pointless loops. Her mom's Honda sat at the curb, and beside it—

No. Absolutely not.

Jason stood there with this golden retriever that was somehow the most perfect creature Maya had ever seen. The dog was currently losing its mind, running in excited circles around Jason's legs like it had just won the lottery.

"This is Cooper," Jason said, sounding weirdly nervous. "He's my sister's service dog in training. We're supposed to socialize him."

Cooper abandoned Jason immediately, trotting over to Maya like she was made of treats. He sat at her feet, looking up with eyes that held approximately zero judgment about her hair.

"He likes you," Jason said, almost surprised.

Maya's hand moved before her brain could overthink it, burying her fingers in Cooper's ridiculously soft fur. "He has excellent taste."

"Yeah," Jason said, and for once, he wasn't mocking her. "He kinda does."

Cooper leaned into her touch, and Maya decided that maybe—just maybe—orange hair wasn't the worst thing in the world. Especially when it came with golden retriever approval.