The Hat Came Off

The baseball cap was practically glued to Maya's head since the incident — the one where her aunt's fancy salon turned her curls into a puffy disaster. Three weeks later, she was still hiding.

"You're not seriously wearing that to the pool," said Kai, raising an eyebrow as they walked toward Jake's house.

Maya adjusted the brim. "It's UV protection."

"Right. Because you're totally not avoiding anyone seeing your hair."

She shoved him. He knew. Everyone would know once she took the plunge — literally and figuratively.

The pool party was already popping when they arrived. Jake's massive pool had at least twenty people floating around, music blasting from somewhere, and a volleyball game going down in the shallow end. Maya stood at the edge, suddenly hyper-aware of how ridiculous she looked in her oversized hat and flip-flops.

That's when Buster — Jake's chaotic golden retriever — came bounding out of nowhere, shaking water everywhere like a furry tornado. The dog zeroed in on Maya like she had treats in her pockets.

"Buster, no!" Jake called from the pool.

But Buster had already launched himself at Maya, knocking her backward. She grabbed at anything to steady herself — and ended up tumbling straight into the pool, hat flying off.

The gasp was audible. Maya surfaced, sputtering, curls everywhere, feeling like she wanted to disappear. But then someone was laughing — not mean laughing, but cracking up.

"Dude!" It was Riley, the cute junior from her English class. "Buster does that to everyone!" She reached out a hand. "Your hair looks sick, by the way."

Maya blinked. "Really?"

"The curls are amazing. I wish mine did that." Riley smiled, and Maya felt something weird happen in her stomach that wasn't from the chlorine.

By the end of the party, Maya's hat was forgotten by the lounge chairs. She was in the middle of a chicken fight tournament (Riley's idea, obviously), laughing so hard her sides hurt. The bad haircut that had felt like the end of the world turned out to be... not a disaster at all.

Sometimes the worst moments — the ones that make you want to hide — are exactly what you need to finally let people see you.