Green in the Teeth

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket—her iPhone lit up with Emma's text: "WHERE R U??? Party started 20 min ago u looooozer."

Maya stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, smoothing her shirt for the tenth time. This was it. Junior year. The party that would either make her socially relevant or solidify her status as the quiet girl who sat in the back of AP History. Her mom had made her promise to eat something before she left, which was how she'd ended up shoving a handful of spinach into her mouth like a stressed rabbit.

She checked her teeth. Green. Everywhere.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, scrubbing with her finger.

"Maya! Hurry UP!" her little brother yelled from downstairs. "Even I have a life and I'm TWELVE."

She finally got the last piece out and grabbed her phone, heart already racing. What if nobody talked to her? What if she stood in the corner all night like a human pyramid of awkwardness?

Emma met her at the door with a sloppy hug. "Finally! Okay, everyone's in the basement. Also, Jake is here. So you're welcome."

Maya's stomach did that horrible flippy thing. Jake. The guy she'd had a crush on since seventh grade, who still didn't know she existed despite having sat next to her in English for three years.

They walked down to the basement, where someone had arranged the couches into what could charitably be called a conversation **pyramid** of social hierarchy. The popular kids on top, everyone else descending below. Emma, being Emma, marched right up to the middle level and started talking to Jake's friend like they'd known each other for years.

Maya hung back, clutching her phone like a lifeline. She scrolled through Instagram, watching other people live their best lives while she stood frozen in a basement.

Then Jake walked over.

"Hey, you're Maya, right? From English?"

"Yeah! Hi!" She practically shouted. Smooth. "I mean, hey. What's up?"

"Not much." He gestured toward a group of guys playing beer pong in the corner. "Your friend seems to be holding court over there. She's... something."

"That's Emma," Maya said, then immediately regretted it. Why did she sound so defensive?

Jake laughed. "No yeah, she's cool. But honestly? I'd rather talk to someone real. Most of these people are just doing their whole performative thing, you know? It's kind of a lot of bull."

Maya blinked. Was this happening?

"Yeah," she said, finding her voice. "I get that. Sometimes it feels like we're all just pretending to be people we're not."

"Exactly." He leaned against the wall. "So, what do you actually think about Mr. Henderson's class? Because I'm pretty sure he's just making up half that stuff as he goes."

They talked for twenty minutes. About school, about music, about how weird it was that everyone was trying so hard to be cool. Jake made her laugh. He remembered things she'd said in class, small observations she'd thought nobody noticed. When Emma came over to check on her, shooting Maya a look that said ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW, Maya almost couldn't believe it.

Later, Jake texted her: "Tonight was the most fun I've had at one of these things. We should hang out again."

Maya stared at her phone, her heart doing that flippy thing again, but different this time. Better.

She caught her reflection in the darkened window and smiled. No spinach in sight. Just her, starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, she was exactly who she was supposed to be.