The Orange Charger Incident

Maya's hands trembled as she clutched her phone. 3% battery. At Tyler Reynolds' house party. This was fine. Everything was fine.

"Hey, you good?"

Maya jumped. A guy with neon-orange hair leaned against the doorframe, holding—could it be?

"You have a cable?" she practically whispered.

He laughed. It was a good laugh. "Dude, I'm basically a walking charging station. Android though, hope that's chill."

"So chill," Maya breathed, relief flooding her chest.

His name was Finn. They ended up squished on the edge of the bathtub—why did people do this?—sharing his orange braided cable and trading increasingly ridiculous stories about their lives. Maya talked herself into admitting she still slept with her childhood bear, Barnaby, when she was stressed. The bear was currently hidden in her backpack because she'd needed emotional support just to walk through Tyler's front door.

Finn didn't mock her. Instead, he pulled out his phone and showed her a picture of Mr. Whiskers, his childhood cat stuffed animal that went everywhere with him freshman year.

"I keep him in my locker," Finn confessed. "For emergencies."

Maya's chest did something weird. Warm and fluttery.

"Hey," Finn said suddenly, "your hair would look sick with orange streaks. I have extra dye. My mom buys in bulk from this indie brand online, it's actually vegan—"

"I've been wanting to dye it for forever," Maya admitted. "But my mom would literally die."

"We could test it first. Like, tiny streaks? She'd barely notice."

Maya thought about Barnaby the bear in her backpack. About being fifteen and terrified of everything. About this strange orange-haired boy who carried charging cables and kept stuffed animals in his locker.

"Let's do it," she said.

They ended up in Tyler's bathroom, carefully painting orange streaks into Maya's dark hair while Finn's cable charged her phone on the counter. When she looked in the mirror, Maya saw someone braver than she'd been two hours ago.

Finn snapped a photo. "For the group chat."

"What group chat?"

"Ours. Obviously."

Maya's phone buzzed. New message: Unknown Number.

The orange streaks were perfect. Barnaby the bear was still in her backpack. Maya's phone was at 47%. And somehow, impossibly, she'd made a friend.

Sometimes the best things start with a dead battery and an orange cable.