The Papaya Incident

Maya stared at her reflection, ready to cry. The papaya hair mask from that TikTok was supposed to give her "sun-kissed highlights," not turn her hair into a neon orange disaster. She looked like a traffic cone. A radioactive one.

"You're being dramatic," her best friend Chloe said, though she was obviously trying not to laugh. "It's not that bad."

"Chloe, I literally glow in the dark now."

They were supposed to go to Jake's party in twenty minutes. Jake, aka The Bull—everyone called him that because he played linebacker and charged through life like he was tackling every moment. Maya had been crushing on him since seventh period English, when he'd let her borrow his pen and their fingers brushed. She'd been planning to finally talk to him tonight, make her move.

Now she looked like a walking construction zone.

In the corner of Chloe's room, a sphinx statue stared at her with enigmatic stone eyes. Chloe's mom was weird into Egyptian mythology. The sphinx was all riddles and secrets, which felt appropriate because Maya's life had become one giant question mark.

"Just wear a hat," Chloe suggested.

"In March?"

"Own it, then. Tell everyone you're experimenting with your look. Being bold is hot."

Maya sighed. Her hair was still damp, the orange screaming against the bathroom lights. She thought about just staying home, watching Netflix, and pretending this night never happened. But then she'd think about Jake, and how she'd spent three weeks working up the courage to actually talk to him. The universe had a cruel sense of humor.

"Fine," Maya said, grabbing her jacket. "Let's go. If anyone asks, I'm embracing my inner traffic cone."

At the party, the room was already packed. Maya spotted Jake immediately, laughing with his friends, looking effortless and gorgeous and completely unaware of her existence. Her stomach did that thing it always did when he was nearby—like someone had replaced her organs with butterflies.

She hovered near the snack table, trying to be invisible, which was hard with orange hair that reflected off the disco ball.

Then Jake was there, grabbing a cup from the table. "Hey," he said, smiling like he meant it. "I like your hair."

Maya blinked. "You're serious."

"Yeah. It's bold." He stepped closer. "I've been wanting to talk to you all semester. You're always reading during lunch, and you look so concentrated. I didn't know how to approach you without sounding like a creep." He laughed, nervous. "So, uh, now I'm just saying it. I sound like a creep, don't I?"

Maya's heart was hammering. "No. You sound—" She searched for the right word. "Perfect."

The sphinx would approve. Sometimes the riddles solve themselves.

"Cool," Jake said, grinning. "Want to go somewhere quieter?"

Maya touched her papaya-orange hair and smiled. "Absolutely."