Green Smoothie Courage

Maya's **hat** kept sliding over her eyes as she paced behind the gymnasium, heart pounding like she'd been **running** a marathon. The 'Senior Talent Showcase' banner mocked her from the auditorium entrance. Who had she thought she was, signing up to perform an original song?

"You got this," Keira said, handing her a travel mug. "Drink this. My mom's pre-performance recipe."

Maya chugged it without thinking – then gagged. "What IS this?"

"**Spinach**, kale, apple, and basically every green thing in our fridge." Keira grinned. "But also, like, three mangoes. You can't taste the vegetables."

Maya's stomach did nervous flips. "This isn't helping my pre-show anxiety."

"It's supposed to give you energy, not make you barf." Keira checked her phone. "You're on in five. Fix your hair, you've got a leaf stuck in it."

Maya's palms were sweating so badly she could barely grip her guitar neck. The green smoothie sat heavy in her stomach, a bad decision compounding her terrible life choices. Why had she thought she could reinvent herself senior year? Quiet Maya, who sat in the back of AP Bio, suddenly thinking she could be performer Maya?

"Next up, Maya Chen!" Mr. Harrison's voice boomed.

Her legs felt like lead as she walked onstage. The spotlight blinded her. Her breath hitched. She couldn't do this.

Then Keira's voice echoed from the back of the auditorium: "GO MAYA!"

One clap. Then another. Someone whistled.

Maya closed her eyes and played the opening chord. Her voice came out shaky at first, then stronger. The song poured out of her – all those feelings about being invisible, about wanting to be seen, about being scared she wasn't enough.

When she finished, the silence stretched. Had it been that bad?

Then: applause. Actual cheering.

She opened her eyes, grinning so hard her face hurt. Keira was jumping up and down like a maniac. And as Maya walked offstage, someone shouted, "That was FIRE!"

Her hands weren't sweating anymore. The terror had vanished, replaced by something else – something that felt suspiciously like belonging.

"You were amazing!" Keira hugged her. "See? The **spinach** magic worked."

Maya laughed, finally fixing her stupid **hat**. "Next time, just regular pre-show jitters. No vegetables required."