Green Between My Teeth

The **pool** party at Jessica's house was supposed to be my social comeback. After spending freshman year as basically a ghost in the hallways, I'd finally been invited. The thing was, I didn't swim. Like, at all. My body was the wrong shape for Speedos and the right shape for oversized hoodies.

I stood by the snack table, conspicuously holding a plastic cup of punch, watching everyone splash around. That's when Marcus — varsity soccer captain, actual human golden retriever — climbed out of the water and headed straight for me. My heart did something aerobically questionable.

"Hey, you're Ryan from English, right?" Water dripped from his hair onto the concrete.

"Yup. That's me. Ryan. From English." Smooth. I was absolutely crushing it.

We talked for like ten minutes and I was feeling good. Really good. Then Jessica marched over, all mysterious smiles and unreadable eyes, like some **sphinx** guarding its riddle. She looked me up and down, then whispered something in Marcus's ear that made his eyes go wide before he awkwardly excused himself.

My stomach dropped through my flip-flops. I knew what this was. I'd been **spy**ing on their Instagram stories for weeks, obvious in my orbit. I was the weird kid who'd been lurking too hard, and now I was being called out.

I bolted for the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and finally checked the mirror. There, wedged firmly between my front teeth like a neon green announcement of my own social death, was a massive chunk of **spinach** from the appetizer platter.

I'd been talking to Marcus for ten minutes. With spinach in my teeth.

Someone knocked on the door. "Hey?" It was Jessica. "Just so you know — Marcus was gonna ask for your number, but he didn't want to do it in front of everyone. He's kinda shy." She paused. "Also, you had something in your teeth. I was trying to save you."

I stared at my reflection. Sometimes you're the protagonist of your coming-of-age movie, and sometimes you're just standing by a **pool** with green stuff stuck in your teeth while a well-meaning girl tries to rescue your dignity.

I rinsed out my mouth, texted Marcus myself, and decided to maybe actually get in the pool. Social suicide could wait until tomorrow.