The Night We All Became Strangers

Maya's cat Boots was the only one who understood why she was hiding in the bathroom at Jackson Harper's party.

"You doing okay in there?" someone called through the door.

"Yeah, just fixing my hair," Maya lied, staring at herself in the mirror. Her hair had taken on a life of its own sometime between arriving and now—a frizzy halo that screamed "I don't belong here."

Outside, the bass thumped like a second heartbeat. This was supposed to be the night she finally became cool, but instead she'd spent two hours holding a red solo cup and nodding at conversations she didn't understand. Even Boots wouldn't have approved.

Then lightning flashed through the window, illuminating the backyard like a strobe light. Maya caught sight of someone standing alone by the pool—Sofia, the girl everyone called "the Sphinx" because she never spoke and never seemed to need anyone. Sofia looked as out of place as Maya felt, her dark hair wet from the sudden storm, watching the rain like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Without thinking, Maya opened the door.

Outside, air thick with rain and teenage desperation, Maya found herself running—actually running—away from the party lights and toward the dark edge of the yard where Sofia stood.

"Hey," Maya said, breathless.

Sofia turned. Up close, she wasn't mysterious. Just tired. "Hey."

"You're not inside either."

"I'm allergic to fake fun." Sofia's lip curved slightly. "Also, I'm pretty sure Jackson's cat is under the porch. I was waiting for it to come out."

Maya laughed before she could stop herself. "I have a cat. Boots. She's currently judging me from home."

"Good cat." Another flash of lightning, and then they were both laughing, two strangers running from the same performative bullshit, hair ruined, standing in the rain while the party raged without them.

"Want to get out of here?" Sofia asked.

"God, yes."

They didn't go back inside. They walked until the storm passed, talking about everything except the party, about how hard it was to be seventeen when no one gave you the manual.

The Sphinx, it turned out, was just a girl who hated small talk. And Maya's terrible hair night became the origin story of the first real friendship she'd made in years.