When Your Hair Goes Orange

Fifteen-year-old Maya stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair, supposed to be caramel highlights, had turned a horrifying bright **orange**. Like, traffic-cone orange.

"MAYA! We're gonna be late for **padel** practice!" Her brother yelled from downstairs.

Maya's stomach did that thing it did whenever she thought about seeing Lucas at the courts today. Lucas, with his perfect smile and effortless cool. Lucas, who'd actually noticed her yesterday. Lucas, who she really didn't want to see her looking like a radioactive pumpkin.

She grabbed her favorite beanie and yanked it down. Whatever. She'd own it. Or at least survive it.

The courts were packed when she arrived. The smell of sunscreen and teenage sweat hung in the air. Lucas was already there, laughing with his friends.

"Maya!" He waved. "You came!"

"Yeah!" she called back, giving what she hoped was a casual shrug.

They played for an hour, and Maya was actually killing it. Lucas kept complimenting her serves. Everything was perfect until—

"Hey, you got a little..." Lucas made a weird gesture at his teeth.

Maya's heart dropped. She'd had that **spinach** wrap from the cafeteria. She'd been walking around with green stuff in her teeth for AN HOUR. In front of Lucas. While wearing traffic-cone hair under her beanie, which had somehow fallen off.

Then it got worse.

A **dog**—a golden retriever, obviously owned by someone in the next court over—came bounding out of nowhere, directly at Maya. She tried to step back, tripped over her own racquet, and face-planted onto the court.

The dog started licking her face enthusiastically. Her beanie was gone. Her orange hair was everywhere. Everyone was staring. Lucas was staring.

Maya thought she might actually die. Like, literally expire from embarrassment right there on the padel court.

But then Lucas started laughing. Not mean laughing—actual laughing.

"That's my cousin's dog," he said, helping her up. "He's got terrible taste in victims."

Maya's face was burning. "I had spinach in my teeth, didn't I?"

"The whole time," Lucas grinned. "But honestly? Your hair is kind of sick."

Maya blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's bold." He paused. "Wanna get boba after this? My treat. For, you know, the attack."

And somehow, despite the orange hair, and the spinach, and the dog, and the absolute catastrophe of a day, Maya smiled. Maybe being a disaster wasn't the worst thing in the world. Not if you could find someone who thought your disasters were kind of great.