The Orange Signal

Jordan's first day at Northwood High and already their stomach was doing backflips. They'd spent forty-five minutes on their hair—carefully styling their newly dyed orange bangs to look effortless, which was ironic because nothing about Jordan felt effortless right now.

"Hey, you're in my seat," said a girl with perfect winged eyeliner and an air of casual authority.

Jordan scrambled to grab their backpack. "Sorry, I—"

"I'm kidding. Sit wherever." The girl grinned. "I'm Chloe. Nice orange, by the way."

Jordan exhaled. Maybe this wouldn't be a total disaster.

After school, Jordan headed to their dad's apartment. Since the divorce, they'd been splitting time between parents, and Dad's place still felt like someone else's life. The apartment was silent except for the rhythmic thumping from upstairs—their neighbor's cat, Mittens, apparently training for the Kitty Olympics. Dad's ancient TV was a lost cause, its cable connection frayed beyond repair, which meant Jordan had missed the season finale everyone was texting about.

"Jordan?" Dad's voice from the kitchen. "Can you check if the internet's working? I need to submit this report."

They stared at the tangled mess of cables behind the router. Tech stuff was supposed to be their generation's superpower, but Jordan felt useless. Just like they felt useless at lunch when everyone discussed plans they weren't invited to. Just like they felt when Chloe mentioned a party that Jordan pretended to know about.

"Jordan? You okay?"

"Fine. Just... fixing it."

They traced each cable with growing frustration. Orange, blue, yellow—all wrong. The orange cat from upstairs let out a particularly dramatic yowl, and something in Jordan snapped.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING," they yelled at the router. "I don't know how to fix this and I don't know how to make friends and I don't know why I thought dyeing my hair orange would make me interesting!"

Silence. Then Dad's footsteps. He didn't lecture or offer empty reassurance. He just sat on the floor beside them.

"Want me to show you which cable goes where?"

They worked together in silence, Dad pointing, Jordan connecting. When the router lights flickered green, Dad squeezed their shoulder.

"For what it's worth, I think the orange looks brave."

Jordan's phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: Hey, this is Chloe from lunch. Some of us are going to the boba place tomorrow. Want to come?

Staring at the screen, Jordan realized that maybe—just maybe—things could connect. Eventually.