Green Smoothie Blues

The smoothie came out looking like pond water. I stared at it through the glass counter, wondering who actually paid $8 for blended spinach and bananas.

"You good, Maya?" Carlos asked from the register.

"Yeah. Just zoning."

My iPhone buzzed in my apron pocket. Jenna's third text in five minutes: 'u coming???'

Summer was halfway over and I was stuck working at Green Goddess while my friends hit the beach every day. I'd taken the job to save for concert tickets, but mostly I'd just acquired an intimate knowledge of kale varieties and permanent green-stained fingernails.

"Order for Sarah," Carlos called.

I slid the smoothie across the counter. The girl looked familiar — same uniform as my school, same exhausted expression. She caught my eye.

"You go to Northridge?"

"Yeah. Senior year coming up."

"Same. I'm Maya."

"I'm Sarah."

My phone buzzed again. Jenna was probably livestreaming their beach hang without me. Again.

"Your friends blowing up your phone?" Sarah asked, gesturing at my pocket.

"Yeah. They're at the beach. I'm... here."

"That sucks."

"Kinda. But honestly?" I leaned closer. "I'd rather be here than watch everyone pretend their lives are perfect for Instagram."

Sarah smiled. It was genuine, crinkling the corners of her eyes. "Real talk."

"Try this smoothie. On the house. But be warned — it tastes like health."

She took a sip, made a face, then laughed. "That's awful. But... thanks."

We exchanged Snapchats. Later, checking my phone, I saw Jenna's post: 'beach day w the squad ✨' with fifteen comments. I opened Sarah's snap instead: a photo of my pond-water smoothie with the caption 'this actually slaps ngl'.

Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all. Sometimes the real friends aren't the ones blowing up your phone.