Green Between My Teeth

The **hair** was a disaster. I stared in the mirror, fingers prodding the lopsided mess my cousin Tyra had created with her "professional" hairdressing scissors. Now my right side looked like I'd lost a fight with a lawnmower.

"You look fresh," Tyra insisted, but she couldn't meet my eyes.

School picture day. Tomorrow. And I looked like I'd let a kindergartner go at me with safety scissors.

At dinner that night, Mom served creamed **spinach** because it's "good for growing boys." I forced it down, thinking about how Jordan from my history class would definitely notice my uneven hairline. She noticed everything.

Friday came, and I survived picture day by strategically positioning my head. But then Cameron decided we should go to the county fair after school. His older brother was working the mechanical **bull** ride, and we could get free turns.

"You gotta do it, Marcus," Cameron said. "It's practically free clout."

The line stretched past the **water** fountain, where I tried to rinse the taste of cafeteria pizza out of my mouth. Then I spotted Jordan walking toward us with her friends. My stomach did that thing where it forgets how to be an organ.

"Marcus!" Cameron called out. "You're up!"

I hadn't signed up for this. But Jordan was watching. I climbed onto the mechanical bull, adjusting my bad side away from her view. The operator gave me a thumbs-up—Cameron's brother, obviously in on the humiliation plan.

The bull jerked to life, and immediately, I understood why cowboys had such strong core muscles. I gripped with everything, my hair flopping into my eyes, spinning in circles while Jordan and her friends laughed.

"You got this, Marcus!" Jordan called out. She was actually cheering. For me.

I lasted forty-seven seconds before flying off onto the inflatable mat. Jordan ran over.

"That was amazing," she said, smiling. Then her expression shifted. "Um, you have a little..." She pointed at her teeth.

Spinach. From lunch. I'd been walking around with green stuff in my teeth for hours.

"Thanks," I mumbled, reaching for my water bottle.

"No problem." She grinned. "Your hair looks different today. It's cool."

Different. Not disastrous. Different. I'll take it.