Green smoothie prophecies

Maya's almond milk latte was practically a lifestyle accessory until Jasper showed up with his mason jar of sludge.

"Trust me," he said, sliding into the cafeteria booth like he owned the place. "This spinach smoothie is literally gonna change your vibe."

Maya eyed the murky green concoction. "That looks like something that crawled out of a swamp."

"Exactly. It's called aesthetic discomfort, Maya. Lean into it." Jasper took a dramatic gulp and didn't even gag.

That was the thing about Jasper. Since transferring to Northwood three weeks ago, he'd appointed himself Maya's personal spirit guide, despite her never asking for one. He read palms behind the gym during lunch, collected vintage band tees he'd never listened to, and used words like 'curate' and 'intentional' way too often.

But Maya was lonely enough to play along.

"Let me see your hand," Jasper said.

Maya extended her palm across the table. Jasper traced the lines with a finger that had somehow accumulated three different rings since yesterday.

"Hmm, interesting. Your life line is practically non-existent. Very on brand for someone who studies AP Bio instead of having actual experiences."

"Hey, I have experiences!"

"When? Between flute practice and that SAT prep course your mom signed you up for?" Jasper looked up, deadpan. "Your palm says you're waiting for permission to live your own life. But here's the thing — no one's gonna give it to you. You just gotta..."

"Just gotta what?"

"Ride or die." He grinned. "Also, try the smoothie."

So she tried it. And kept trying it every day for two weeks. And something weird happened — people started noticing her. Not in a huge way, but like she'd suddenly become part of the scenery at Northwood instead of just background NPC energy.

Then came the homecoming assembly.

Maya was on stage with the flute section when she caught sight of Jasper in the front row, giving her an exaggerated thumbs-up. She smiled, and that's when she noticed the collective wince from the first row.

A mirror in the band room confirmed it: a forest of spinach wedged between her front teeth like she'd been grazing on actual pasture.

Maya wanted to die. She wanted to transfer schools. She wanted to dissolve into particles and float away into the cosmos.

Instead, Jasper found her behind the bleachers during fourth period, attempting to cry quietly.

"So that happened," he said, sliding down the wall to sit beside her.

"I'm never leaving this spot."

"Fair. But you should know something." Jasper held out his palm. "I've been reading my own palm since I moved here, and guess what it said?"

Maya sniffed. "That you'd make friends with the most embarrassing person at Northwood?"

"It said I needed someone real." He bumped her shoulder with his. "Congrats on the spinach teeth, by the way. Very authentic."

Maya laughed through the remaining tears. "You're the worst."

"I'm your friend," Jasper corrected. "And I predict next week's going to be way less swamp-related."

He was wrong about that part. But he was right about everything else.