The Orange Peel Rebellion

Maya's iphone clutched in her hand like a security blanket—third dead battery this week, and she still wouldn't put it down even at lunch. The cafeteria noise hit her ears like physical force, waves of laughter and drama and too-loud secrets. She pulled her dad's old beanie hat down lower, practically swallowing her forehead. It was ugly and gray and smelled like thrift store mothballs, but it was armor.

"Hey."

Maya jumped so hard she almost knocked over her chocolate milk. A girl slid onto the bench across from her—bright orange hair, combat boots, zero hesitation. Like she belonged everywhere.

"You're Maya, right? Creative writing?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm Quinn. I saw your poem in the literary magazine. The one about being underwater." Quinn's eyes were sharp, interested. "It was good."

Maya felt something weird in her chest. Like vitamin D after months of winter. Someone actually READ her stuff?

"Thanks," she mumbled. Phone screen still lit. Safety.

Quinn pulled something from her pocket—this perfect, bright orange. Started peeling it with her fingernails, casual as breathing. The citrus smell cut through the stale cafeteria air.

"You want some? It's actually good. Not that fake grocery store stuff."

"Sure?" Why did she say it like a question?

Quinn slid her a segment. Maya bit into it—burst of tart-sweet, unexpected and real. She looked at her phone, then at Quinn's orange-stained fingers, then at Quinn waiting like she actually gave a damn what Maya would say next.

"So what's with the hat?"

"I don't know." Maya's voice came out smaller than she wanted. "Just... hiding, I guess."

"From what?"

"Everything. Everyone. This." She gestured vaguely at everything.

Quinn laughed—not mean, just amused. "Damn, you're dramatic. I like it." She popped another orange slice. "You know what my therapist says?"

"That I'm dramatic?"

"No. She says avoidance is like taking vitamin C when you're already sick. Good, but you needed it three weeks ago." Quinn leaned in. "So. Three weeks from now, what're you gonna wish you'd done today?"

Maya looked at her phone screen. Scrolled through apps she'd opened twenty times. Then she pushed it across the table toward Quinn.

"This," she said, and took another orange slice.