Green in the Teeth

The pool party at Tyler's house was supposed to be Maya's social resurrection. Freshman year had been a disaster of awkward lunchroom seating and failed attempts to sit at the "cool" table. This summer, things would be different.

Maya stood by the snack table, clutching her iPhone like a lifeline. No new texts. Of course. She'd posted a cute selfie forty minutes ago—should've waited until golden hour, her feed was looking tragic.

"Hey Maya!"

She jumped. Tyler. Actual Tyler, with his stupid perfect smile and hair that somehow looked good wet from swimming. "You coming in or what?"

"Yeah! Just, uh, grabbing food."

She grabbed a spinach dip cracker. Bad move. She could feel something stuck in her front teeth immediately. Because the universe hated her.

Maya bolted toward the bathroom, phone pressed to her face like she was mid-conversation. So smooth. Except someone was already in there. Of course.

She turned back toward the pool and froze.

There, emerging from the sliding glass door like some prehistoric beast, was Mrs. Chen, Tyler's mom. The woman was an absolute **bear** when it came to pool rules—no running, no diving, no anything that made a party actually fun. Last year she'd shut down the entire event because someone had brought glow sticks.

"Maya!" Mrs. Chen boomed. "Tyler said you've been hiding out all afternoon."

"Just... phone stuff." Maya held up her iPhone like it explained everything.

"Well put it away. Living in the moment! That's what I always say." Mrs. Chen steered her toward the pool with a grip that meant business. "Your friend Charlie's been asking about you."

Charlie. Her stomach did that thing it always did when she thought about him—like she'd swallowed a swarm of those glowing pool butterflies. But then she remembered: the spinach. Still in her teeth. Probably showcasing itself like a tiny green flag of social suicide.

She spotted him across the pool, looking unfairly good in his swim trunks. This was it. The moment. She could either swim over and say hey, or spend the rest of high school regaling her future therapist with the story of the time she didn't talk to Charlie because of spinach.

But then Tyler's older brother Jake, who was essentially a human **bull** in the worst way—pushy, loud, and seemingly incapable of reading social cues—shouted, "YO CHARLIE! WATCH THIS!" and attempted what looked like a backflip off the diving board.

The splash was epic.

The entire pool erupted in laughter. Even Maya.

"That's your opening," someone said beside her.

Maya turned. A girl she recognized from English class—what was her name, Sam?—grinned. "Jake's always good for a distraction. Charlie's totally looking over here right now."

Maya's heart did that fluttery thing again. She caught Charlie's eye across the pool. He smiled.

And then Sam whispered, "You've got something in your teeth, by the way."

Maya's soul left her body.

But Sam just kept grinning. "I've got a mirror. And honestly? This dip is worth it."

For the first time all summer, Maya's shoulders dropped. She wasn't swimming in the deep end of social warfare alone.

"Ten seconds," Sam said. "Then we're going over there. Together."

Maya nodded, swiping at the spinach with her pinky like her dignity depended on it. Because it kind of did.

Together. Weirdly, that made it easier.