Green Smoothie Disaster

The spinach smoothie sat on the counter like a radioactive experiment gone wrong. My shift at Jamba Juice wasn't supposed to be a social event, but when Jason walked in with his swim team friends, my stomach did that thing where it forgets how to be an organ.

"Sup, Maya," he said, leaning against the counter where my cracked iPhone displayed '3 missed calls from Mom.' His hair was still wet from swimming practice, and I could smell chlorine mixed with whatever expensive cologne he probably got for his birthday last week.

I slid his smoothie across the counter. "Here. Made it extra thick, just how you like it."

He grinned and took a sip. Then froze.

"Did you put actual spinach in this?"

"It's a Super Green Boost. Health stuff." My face was definitely the color of said spinach. "My bad, I can remake it—"

"No, it's cool." He laughed, and his friends laughed with him, but not in a mean way. "Actually, it's not terrible. Just... unexpected."

His phone buzzed on the table. He didn't check it. Mine buzzed too, but I ignored it because something unprecedented was happening: Jason from swim team, who had approximately zero reason to notice me outside of AP Bio, was still standing there.

"You good at swimming?" he asked.

"I literally almost drowned at my cousin's bat mitzvah pool party last summer," I said. "Why?"

"We need a fourth for relay. And you're, like, actually tall when you're not hiding behind that counter."

My palm started sweating against the smoothie station. I wiped it on my apron, probably leaving a gross green smear.

"I'd be terrible."

"So? We're terrible too. Came in last place at regionals. It's about the aesthetic."

The summer stretched ahead suddenly, full of possibility. Chlorine and green smoothies and maybe, just maybe, not being invisible anymore.

"Pick me up tomorrow at seven," I said, surprised by my own voice sounding steady. "And Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"Bring me a better smoothie."