Green Between My Teeth

Marcus had three problems.

Problem one: The spinach stuck between his front teeth. Problem two: Jordan's pool party started in ten minutes. Problem three: Marcus couldn't actually swim.

"You'll be fine," his sister had said earlier that morning, while dramatically chopping his curls into something she called "a modern aesthetic" but what Marcus called "a hedgehog attack." "Just splash around in the shallow end. Nobody's watching anyway."

Everybody was always watching. That was literally the whole point of high school.

His palms were sweating so much that his phone kept sliding out of his hands. He checked his reflection in the hallway mirror—yep, still looked like a terrified poodle with extremely poor dental hygiene. The spinach situation was becoming critical. He'd tried everything. Flossing made it worse. Tongue maneuvers accomplished nothing except looking like he was secretly rehearsing for a lizard cosplay.

At the party, the backyard looked like something out of a teen movie—too many people, too much sunscreen smell, Jordan's older sister's playlist bumping from expensive speakers that Marcus's parents would definitely call "excessive."

He hovered near the snack table, strategically positioning a red solo cup in front of his face. This plan worked perfectly until Maya appeared beside him.

"Hey Marcus." She was wearing this black swimsuit with little suns on it and somehow she made it look like she'd stepped out of a magazine instead of just like, existing, which was genuinely unfair. "You coming in or what?"

"Maybe later," he managed. "Just. You know. Warming up my appetite. For the. Snacks."

She laughed, and Marcus felt his entire face approach temperatures previously reserved for the surface of Venus. "You're so weird. I like your hair, by the way. It's got vibes."

His hand went up to touch it automatically, and in that exact moment, his palm (sweaty, betraying, disaster palm) slipped against the cup, and the soda went EVERYWHERE. All over her. All over him. All over the last remaining dignity he possessed.

Maya looked down at her drenched swimsuit. Marcus looked at the spinach that had apparently dislodged itself during the chaos and was now floating visibly in the spilled soda like a tiny green boat of shame.

"Well," she said, and then she was laughing, actually laughing, and Marcus realized she wasn't mad at all. "Okay, that was definitely the most interesting thing that's happened at this party."

"I can't swim," he blurted out, because apparently they were doing full disclosure now. "I never learned. And I have spinach issues. And my hair is a crime against humanity."

"Marcus." She splashed him, just a little. "I'll teach you. But you have to get in the pool first."

He looked at the water, then back at her, still smiling despite being covered in soda. Marcus took a breath, wiped his sweaty hands on his trunks, and jumped.

The water was cold. He flailed. She caught his arm. Somewhere behind him, he heard his sister's voice: "THAT'S MY BOY."

Marcus went under, came up sputtering, and finally—finally—laughed.