Zombie Lightning Hair Day

Maya's blue hair was supposed to be her rebellion. Her mom's exact words when she came downstairs with the newly dyed mess: "You look like a zombie that got electrocuted." Thanks, Mom. That's exactly the vibe Maya was going for when she spent three hours last night watching TikTok tutorials and destroying her bathroom sink.

Now she's speed-walking to school because her best friend Chloe isn't replying to texts, and Maya's already spiraling. Is Chloe ghosting her? Over the hair? It's sophomore year, and apparently everything is dramatic now. Even hair.

Then the sky opens up. Lightning cracks across the morning sky like something out of a movie, and the sky goes dark gray. Maya's frantically trying to protect her hair with her backpack—it took forever to get that messy-perfect texture—and then she's running. Just running. Away from the impending downpour, away from her mom's judgment, away from whatever's happening with Chloe.

She ducks under the overhang at the Java Hut, chest heaving, and there's Chloe. Sitting at a corner table with that girl from math class, the one with the perfect Instagram feed. Maya feels like a zombie—all the energy drained out, brain foggy, limbs heavy. She's about to keep walking, to keep running away, when Chloe spots her.

"Maya! Your hair!" Chloe grins, waving her over. "It looks so good, like, actually iconic."

The other girl nods. "Totally giving main character energy."

Maya slides into the booth, heart still racing from the run. Outside, another flash of lightning illuminates the street. She's breathing hard, hair is probably a disaster, and she's pretty sure she left her history homework on the kitchen counter.

"I thought you were ghosting me," Maya admits, feeling stupid as soon as she says it.

"Girl, no," Chloe says. "I was just convincing Emma here to dye her hair pink. Your blue hair is giving us all the inspo."

Emma laughs. "My mom would literally kill me. But your hair actually slays, Maya."

Maya touches the blue strands, still damp from the humidity. Maybe it's not a rebellion. Maybe it's just—her. The lightning outside flashes again, and for once, she doesn't feel like running. She's just Maya, with her zombie hair that her mom hates and her friends somehow love.

"Want a ride to school?" Chloe asks. "My sister's picking us up."

"Yes," Maya says. "A million times yes."