Green in the Deep End

The pool party at Jessica's house was supposed to be my comeback tour. After three months of being "that kid who puked in algebra," I'd carefully curated a new aesthetic: vintage trucker hat, subtle confidence, zero spinach in my teeth. Or so I thought.

I'd spent thirty minutes positioning my hat at the perfect calculated-who-cares angle. Marcus, my best friend since kindergarten who'd recently started wearing cologne and calling himself "Marc," had already abandoned me by the snack table. I watched him laugh with the popular crowd, his head thrown back, hat-less and free, while I clutched a plastic cup of lukewarm soda like it was a lifeline.

The zombie movie marathon blasted from outdoor speakers. Some genius had decided The Walking Dead paired perfectly with pool floats shaped like flamingos.

"Hey, Chaser!" My stomach did that terrible lurching thing it always did when someone actually acknowledged my existence. It was Tyler, the junior whose Instagram was basically a documentation of his chest day progress. He was wearing a shirt that said something incoherent about gains. "Your hat's sick. Where'd you get it?"

I opened my mouth to deploy the carefully practiced line about this vintage shop in the city that didn't actually exist, but then I saw it: Maya, from my English class, standing behind Tyler, her expression unreadable. She pointed at my mouth, horrified.

I spun toward the sliding glass door and caught my reflection — a massive, bright green chunk of spinach wedged between my front teeth, looking like I'd been photoshopped poorly into a plant identification guide. All that careful curation, all that hat positioning, ruined by a single piece of salad debris.

The zombie movie's dramatic swell reached its crescendo. Someone screamed — whether at the film or my dental disaster, I couldn't tell.

Marcus materialized beside me. Not popular Marcus, not "Marc" — my actual friend, the one who'd held my hair back when I had the flu freshman year. He pulled a mirror from his pocket like he was carrying it specifically for emergencies involving leafy greens.

"Bro," he said, "you've had that since lunch. I thought you were going for a rustic aesthetic."

I flicked the spinach away. It landed in the pool with a tiny splash that nobody noticed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I groaned.

"And ruin your moment?" Marcus grinned. "Besides, real friends let you walk around with spinach in your teeth sometimes. It builds character."

Maya approached, Tyler forgotten behind her. "That was honestly the most terrifying thing I've seen all night," she said, nodding toward the zombie movie. "Also, I like your hat."

I adjusted it, suddenly not caring about the angle. "Thanks."