Green Teeth & Blocked Screens

Maya smoothed her vintage bucket hat for the tenth time, checking her reflection in the cafeteria window. First week of sophomore year, and she was still trying to figure out her aesthetic. The hat was new—maybe too new. Maybe everyone could tell she was trying too hard.

"Hey, Maya!"

It was Jordan from AP Bio, sliding into the seat across from her. Her stomach did that thing where it forgot how to be an organ. This was it. The moment she'd been low-key obsessing over since summer school.

"What's up?" Maya managed, voice approximately two octaves higher than normal. Smooth.

Jordan's eyes widened slightly, and for a split second, Maya thought—hoped—maybe he was nervous too. Then his gaze flickered to her mouth, and oh god, oh no, please no.

"You have a little..." Jordan gestured to his own teeth, wincing sympathetically. "Spinach. From lunch."

The entire universe could end right now, and she'd be fine with it.

Maya's face burned hotter than a nuclear reactor. She grabbed her iPhone, fingers fumbling like she'd suddenly forgotten how hands worked. Blocked screen—of course. Her cracked case mocked her as she swiped at the glass, desperate to see the damage.

"Thanks," she mumbled, finally unlocking it. The reflection showed green flecks like confetti from hell. Why was the universe personally victimizing her?

But Jordan was still sitting there. Not running away. Not laughing.

"That hat is actually really cool," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Where'd you get it?"

Maya blinked. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, but something in her chest loosened. She opened her palm—still shaky—and realized she was subconsciously showing him her phone case, a thrifted find covered in hand-painted sunflowers.

"Local vintage shop," she heard herself say. "I can show you sometime?"

Jordan smiled. And yeah, her breath probably still smelled like spinach and pure embarrassment, but his smile was genuine. "I'd like that."

Maybe the universe wasn't victimizing her. Maybe it was just awkward, like everything else at fifteen, and that was okay.