The Mechanical Bull Ritual

Maya's palms were sweating through her denim shorts, which was honestly embarrassing considering she was just standing in line at Finn's carnival. The Spring Fling was supposed to be the highlight of sophomore year, but so far it was mostly just overpriced funnel cake and the same five playlists they used at every dance.

"You're not actually doing that, right?" Chloe stage-whispered, nodding toward the mechanical bull. "Maya, you literally trip walking up stairs."

"Shut up," Maya muttered, but her stomach did that thing where it tried to crawl up her throat. The truth was, she didn't know why she was doing this. Maybe because Jason watched her fail at literally everything else this year. Maybe because she was tired of being the person who sat on the sidelines while everyone else got stories worth telling.

The bull itself was ridiculous—plastic and patched with duct tape, painted to look like it had attitude. The operator, some college-aged guy with a beard that definitely belonged in 2019, was currently helping some sophomore from the football team stay mounted for approximately three seconds before he went flying into the padding.

The crowd went wild every time. Which was the whole point.

"Next up!" the operator called, and Maya's legs were moving before her brain could fashion a coherent excuse. She could hear Chloe behind her saying something that sounded like a mix of horror and admiration.

Swing your leg over. Grip with your knees. Don't think about how your entire social life is about to become a permanent record on everyone's Snapchat story.

The bull jerked to life beneath her, and Maya was running on pure instinct—knees locked, body leaning opposite to every violent twist. She wasn't thinking about physics or dignity or the fact that half the sophomore class was currently filming her possible humiliation. She was just holding on, teeth gritted, somehow still on the thing as it swung violent and wild beneath her.

"SEVEN POINT TWO SECONDS!" the operator shouted, and Maya slid off, legs trembling, palms still sweaty but now also covered in fake leather dust. The cheering was actually loud, like genuinely loud, and Chloe was screaming like Maya had just won the Olympics.

"That was actually sick," Jason said, appearing out of nowhere with that half-smile that made her stomach do something different now. "I didn't know you had that in you."

Maya looked at her hands, then at the bull, then back at him. "Yeah," she said, grinning despite herself. "Me neither."