The Neon Orange Revelation

The brim of my baseball hat pulled low, I shuffled through the hallway like a zombie—dead inside, surviving on three hours of sleep and an iced coffee that had stopped working hours ago. Being a freshman sucked, but being a freshman who couldn't decide who they were supposed to be? That was a whole different nightmare.

"Yo, Marcus!" Jordan yelled from across the cafeteria. "Tryouts for baseball are today. You coming or what?"

I froze. My hand instinctively went to my hat—my shield, my disguise, my don't-notice-me device. Meanwhile, Kayla sat next to me, her neon orange hair practically glowing under the fluorescent lights. She'd done it herself over the weekend, box dye and zero regrets.

"You're actually thinking about it?" Kayla asked, stealing a tater tot from my tray. "Baseball? Seriously?"

"I don't know," I muttered. "Maybe?"

"Bro," she said, "you literally flinch when a ball comes near you in gym class. Also, that hat? It's giving 'I'm hiding from my destiny.'"

I laughed despite myself. "What destiny? The one where I become a zombie member of society who hates everything?"

"No," she said, suddenly serious. "The one where you stop wearing that dumb hat and dye your hair orange like you've been talking about for months."

I stared at her. The bell rang, and we stood up together. Outside, the baseball field stretched out in the distance, players already warming up. Jordan waved at me, looking hopeful.

My hand went to my hat again. Then I thought about how tired I was of hiding—of the hat, of the zombie act, of watching everyone else live while I stood on the sidelines.

I pulled the hat off. My hair was messy, flat, definitely not neon orange, but it was mine.

"Hey Kayla," I said, grinning. "That orange dye. You think there's enough left for both of us?"

Her smile was immediate. "Oh, we're absolutely doing this. But first?" She pointed toward the baseball field. "Go talk to Jordan. Even if you suck, at least you'll be sucking with style."

Maybe being a teenager didn't have to mean being dead inside. Maybe it just meant being brave enough to show up, orange hair and all.