Green Between My Teeth

The cafeteria hummed with that specific lunch-period chaos — clattering trays, loud laughter, someone blasting Drake from a portable speaker. I was living my worst life, feeling like a **zombie** after staying up until 3 AM finishing my AP History essay.

"You got something in your teeth," Maya said, not looking up from her phone.

I froze. "What?"

"Like, actual **spinach**. From whatever that was."

I'd eaten what the lunch ladies called a "salad" but was basically just wilted greens and sadness. And now, staring across the cafeteria at Tyler Rodriguez — who was somehow laughing with his friends while looking effortlessly good — I realized this was it. This was my villain origin story.

Maya finally looked up, sighed, and said, "Your **hair** looks amazing though, no cap. The curl cream is finally working."

Small mercies. I'd spent forty-five minutes this morning trying to look like I hadn't spent forty-five minutes this morning. The careful chaos aesthetic, you know?

"Thanks," I muttered, still self-conscious about whatever green disaster was happening in my mouth.

Then Tyler started walking toward our table. My heart did that thing where it forgets how to beat normally. Tyler, with his dimples and his varsity jacket and the way he made eye contact like he actually saw people.

"Hey," he said, stopping at my table. "You're fast, right? Like, **running** fast?"

I blinked. "I mean, I do track?"

"Coach needs someone for the relay meet Friday. Sarah twisted her ankle. You in?"

"Wait, me?"

"Yeah, you. You always finish first in gym laps." He smiled, and I noticed he had this tiny scar above his left eyebrow. "So you in?"

I was nodding before my brain caught up. "Yeah. Yes. I'm in."

"Cool." He walked away, and Maya immediately grabbed my arm.

"Did that just happen?"

"I think so?"

Then it hit me — I'd just agreed to race in front of everyone while probably having spinach in my teeth. But honestly? Tyler had noticed me. Really noticed me. Not Instagram me, or hallway-polite me, but actual me.

"You know what's weird?" Maya said later as we walked out of lunch. "My **goldfish** died this morning, and I thought today would be trash, but this was actually kinda iconic for you."

"Rest in peace, Gerald," I said solemnly.

"Rest in peace, Gerald," she agreed.

And okay, maybe I'd had spinach in my teeth while talking to the cutest guy in tenth grade. Maybe I was exhausted and stressed and constantly overthinking everything. But somehow, in the middle of all that awkwardness, something had finally clicked. Maybe high school wasn't about being perfect. Maybe it was just about showing up — spinach, sleep deprivation, and all — and letting people see the real you.

Even if the real you really needed to floss more often.