Green Between the Teeth

The pool shimmered like liquid diamonds, fake-blue and chlorine-scented. Maya stood at the edge, towel clutched to her chest, feeling every bit the loser she was pretty sure everyone thought she was.

"Yo, Maya! You jumping in or what?" Ryan's voice cut through the humidity. Ryan, with his hair that defied gravity and that smile that made her stomach do actual gymnastics.

"Yeah, just... prepping," Maya called back, because apparently her vocabulary had abandoned her at the age of fifteen.

She'd spent two hours getting ready. Two. The hair. The makeup that looked like she wasn't wearing makeup. The orange bikini she'd spent three weeks' allowance on, hoping it would somehow transform her from Background Character to Love Interest. Spoiler: it had not.

What she HADN'T accounted for was the spinach artichoke dip she'd inhaled at lunch because her mom had made it "special" for her before the party. The same spinach now absolutely, without a doubt, wedged between her front teeth.

She'd caught it in the bathroom mirror five minutes ago. A green floral arrangement of social death.

Cameron from AP Bio was already live-streaming by the cabana. His phone was connected to a janky extension cable that snaked dangerously close to the water, because apparently basic safety guidelines were for losers. Maya imagined the headline: LOCAL TEEN DIES OF EMBARRASSMENT, TECHNICALLY DROWNING BUT REALLY THE SPINACH.

"What's up, Cameron," she said, ducking behind a group of sophomores.

"Maya! Get in here, the water's perfect!" Someone splashed. Droplets hit her legs like tiny confidence attacks.

She checked her teeth in her phone reflection. Still there. A verdant monument to her perpetual uncoolness.

Ryan swam over, slicking his hair back like he was in a movie. "You okay? You look... intense."

Maya made a decision.

"Ryan," she said, "I have spinach in my teeth, don't I?"

He blinked. "Oh yeah. Huge chunk. Been there for like ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?!" she shrieked.

"I thought you knew!" He laughed, but not mean-laughed. "I was waiting for you to fix it, but then you kept smiling at me and I felt weird saying anything."

Maya buried her face in her hands. "I am going to homeschool. Forever."

"Dude," Ryan said, splashing water at her, "you think I didn't have pizza sauce all over my face earlier? Jordan literally had to tell me. We're all disasters here."

He swam to the edge and held out a hand. "Come in. I promise not to look at your teeth for at least five minutes."

Maya looked at the pool, at the cable still snaking toward the water, at Ryan waiting with actual patience. She took a breath, removed her towel, and jumped in.

The water was perfect. And maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to be perfect all the time.

Most times, anyway.