The Lucky Orange Streak

Maya's cat Pumpkin had been her emotional support animal since middle school, but now that she was sixteen, the tabby had developed a weird habit: whenever Maya was stressed, Pumpkin would knock over her vitamin bottle. Like clockwork.

"Not today, Pumpkin," Maya groaned, shoving the scattering orange tablets back into the bottle. Today was tryouts for the varsity baseball team, and Maya needed all the luck she could get.

She'd spent the entire weekend binge-wording old games on cable, analyzing every pitch, every swing. Her hair was pulled back in her signature high pony, the one her mom said made her look like a different person—confident, athletic, not the girl who spent eighth grade hiding in the library.

"You're gonna crush it," said Jordan, leaning against Maya's locker. Jordan, who'd somehow made varsity as a freshman and now moved through the hallways like they owned the place. Jordan, whose hair fell perfectly without even trying.

"Thanks," Maya managed, though her stomach did that fluttery thing that had nothing to do with vitamins and everything to do with Jordan's smile.

But then came disaster—fifteen minutes before tryouts, Maya's ponytail holder snapped. Her hair exploded into frizzy chaos, and her backup tie had gone missing somewhere in her backpack.

"You good?" Jordan asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, just... my hair."

"Here." Jordan reached into their pocket and pulled out a bright orange ribbon—the same orange as Maya's vitamins, as Pumpkin's fur. "My little sister's. She made me carry it for luck."

Maya tied back her hair with the ridiculous ribbon. "You're letting me wear your sister's lucky hair tie?"

"Pumpkin says you need it," Jordan said with a grin.

Maya froze. "You named your cat Pumpkin too?"

"Who do you think knocks over my vitamins every morning?"

At tryouts, Maya hit three home runs. The coach asked what had changed.

"New hair tie," Maya said, touching the orange ribbon. "Works every time."