Green Screen

Maya sat at the third cafeteria table from the back—not the front, definitely not the back—and picked at her lunch. Her **palm**s were sweating against the plastic tray, leaving little moisture marks that she kept trying to casually wipe on her jeans. This was it. The moment she'd been overthinking since first period.

Alex, her **friend** since kindergarten turned popular-kid-over-the-summer, was walking toward her. Maya's stomach did that thing where it felt like her organs were rearranging themselves. She hadn't spoken to him properly since October, when their friend groups had drifted apart like oil and water in a science experiment.

She caught her reflection in her phone screen—dark curly hair escaping her bun, eyes too wide, and wait. Was there—

"Hey," Alex said, sliding into the seat opposite her.

Maya clamped her mouth shut. Oh god. The **spinach**. From her smoothie this morning. It was definitely stuck in her teeth. This was it. This was how she died.

"So," Alex continued, completely oblivious to her dental emergency. "I need a favor."

Maya forced herself to breathe. "What kind of favor?"

"I'm failing chemistry," he said, leaning in like they were conspiring to overthrow the government instead of discussing homework. "Like, actually failing. My mom's gonna kill me if I don't pull up this grade by finals, and I know you're good at science. Can you tutor me?"

Maya stared at him. The **spinach** in her teeth suddenly seemed like way less of a problem than the fact that Alex freaking Torres was asking her for help. Alex, who now sat with the juniors at lunch. Alex, who had somehow grown three inches over summer break.

"What's in it for me?" she heard herself say.

Alex's shoulders dropped like he'd been holding his breath. "I'll pay you twenty bucks an hour. And I'll stop sitting with those juniors because honestly, they talk about crypto constantly and I have no idea what they're saying."

Maya felt something unfamiliar and warm spread through her chest. She swallowed, smiled—carefully, lips mostly closed—and said, "Deal."

Alex grinned, and Maya watched three months of overthinking dissolve like sugar in hot tea. The **spinach** could wait. She had bigger things to worry about now—like how she was going to explain stoichiometry to someone who'd forgotten how to be her friend, and whether she wanted to help him remember.