The Riddle of Perfect Hair

Maya's hair had declared mutiny. Again. The frizz was doing something aggressively three-dimensional, making her look like she'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket. Not the vibe she wanted for the biggest **padel** match of the semester.

"You look fine," Chloe said, not looking up from her phone. "Jackson's not gonna care what your hair looks like when you crush his team."

"That's easy for you to say," Maya muttered. "Your hair behaves. Mine has commitment issues."

Chloe finally looked up, grinning. "You're seriously stressing about Jackson? He still thinks 'rizz' is something you do with tomato sauce."

Fair point.

They walked to the rec center where the tournament brackets were posted. Maya's stomach did that nervous flutter thing it always did before competition. But today it was worse—because Jackson would be there, watching, probably looking effortlessly perfect with his stupid perfect everything.

Outside the courts, Mrs. Gable's prize-winning golden retriever, Buster, was loose again. The **dog** bounded toward them, tail wagging like a metronome on caffeine, towing a tangled **cable** behind him. He'd yanked it right out of the outdoor lighting setup.

"Buster! No!" Maya's voice cracked embarrassingly. "Bad **dog**! Drop it!"

Chloe was already filming. "This is going on TikTok immediately. Caption: 'Local girl loses battle to very good boy.'"

Maya finally wrestled the cable from Buster's mouth, but not before he'd managed to wrap it around her legs. She faceplanted directly into the decorative **sphinx** statue by the entrance.

Stone **sphinx** nose. Meet Maya's forehead.

She lay there for a solid five seconds, contemplating transferring to a new school. Maybe a new country. Mars seemed nice this time of year.

But then she heard laughing. Not mean-girl laughing—genuine, bent-over-double laughing. She looked up to see Jackson, his eyes crinkled, clutching his sides like she'd just told the world's best joke.

"I—" Maya started, mortified. "I fell on a **sphinx**."

"I saw," Jackson said, still grinning. "That was genuinely the most epic fail I've ever witnessed. And I have three brothers." He reached down to help her up. "You okay?"

Maya looked at him—really looked. His hair was messed up too. There was grass in it. He'd clearly been somewhere doing something equally uncool.

"My hair is a disaster," she said, gesturing at the frizz explosion.

Jackson's smile softened. "Yeah. Mine too. Want to grab boba after I lose this match? Because I'm definitely losing."

Maya touched her tender forehead. Her hair was wild. She'd faceplanted into a statue. But somehow, for the first time all day, she didn't care.

"You're on," she said. "But you're buying. That **sphinx** left a mark."