Goldfish in the Spinach

The spinach between my front teeth felt like a billboard advertising my humiliation. I'd been crushing on Jordan for three months, and naturally, the first time he actually noticed me, I had a green leafy situation going on.

"You got a little..." Jordan gestured at his own teeth, looking weirdly amused.

My so-called best friend, Maya, had definitely seen it. She'd been watching me talk to Jordan for the past ten minutes, grinning like she was enjoying the show. That's when I realized—she hadn't said anything because she thought it was hilarious.

"Thanks," I muttered, wiping frantically with my napkin.

Jordan's phone buzzed. He checked it and sighed. "I gotta go. My mom's making me help with dinner again."

"See you tomorrow," I said, trying to sound normal.

When he walked away, I turned on Maya. "Thanks for the heads-up."

She shrugged. "I thought it was funny. Lighten up, Alex."

Funny. Just like she'd thought it was funny when she told everyone I'd cried over a math test last week. Or when she "accidentally" mentioned my crush to Jordan's friends.

I grabbed my tray and walked out, leaving Maya at the cafeteria table. Outside, I pulled my phone from my pocket and stared at the picture of Leonard—my prize goldfish from last summer's carnival, won moments before my former best friend had decided I was "too weird" to hang out with.

Leonard had outlasted that friendship. He swam in his bowl on my nightstand, existing without drama, without betrayal, without making me feel small.

"That's bull," I whispered to myself.

Maya caught up to me by my locker. "You're seriously mad? It's just spinach."

"It's not just the spinach," I said, finally saying what I'd been thinking for weeks. "It's everything. You're supposed to be my friend, not the person who makes me the punchline."

She rolled her eyes. "You're being dramatic."

"Am I?" I slammed my locker shut. "Because real friends don't let you walk around with spinach in your teeth for ten minutes because they think it's entertaining."

Maya's face shifted. Something like guilt flickered, but she covered it quickly. "Whatever. I'll catch you later."

I watched her walk away, something loosening in my chest. That night, I fed Leonard an extra pinch of fish food. His tiny mouth opened and closed, surfacing for flakes like nothing had changed.

Jordan texted me at 9 PM: Spinach and all, you're still cute ;)

I smiled at my phone. Tomorrow, I'd sit with someone else at lunch. Maybe someone who didn't think my embarrassment was content. And maybe I'd finally respond to Jordan's text.

Leonard swam to the top of his bowl, and I pressed send.