Green Teeth & Goldfish

Maya's first day at Northwood High felt like walking into a movie where everyone else had the script. She'd spent forty-five minutes on her hair—carefully curled, then straightened, then curled again because indecision was basically her personality at this point. Then came the lunchroom incident.

She'd taken a bite of the spinach salad her mom packed (healthy choices, new start, all that) when THE WHOLE cafeteria went silent. Like, actual silence. Tyler, the guy she'd been lowkey stalking on Instagram since August, was walking toward her. Maya froze. Was this happening? Was THIS how it started? Her heart did that embarrassing flutter thing.

"Your phone," he whispered, sliding into the seat across from her. "You're basically a spy with how much you screenshot my posts."

Maya nearly choked on her spinach. "I—what?"

"It's cool." Tyler grinned, and that's when she saw it. The massive, emerald-green chunk of spinach wedged between her front teeth. The kind that announces itself like a neon sign.

She wanted to die. Actually die. Cease to exist. Become one with the cafeteria floor tiles.

"But anyway," Tyler continued, completely chill, "I noticed you like photography too. My friend's band is playing at this papaya farm downtown on Friday—you know, that weird tropical spot? They need pics for their Insta. You down?"

Maya's brain short-circuited. Papaya farm? Band? Was this a real thing that happened?

"Sure," she heard herself say. "Yeah. Totally down."

"Sick." He stood up. "Oh, and Maya?"

"Yeah?"

"Spinach." He pointed at his own teeth. "Just FYI."

Her face burned hotter than a thousand suns.

Friday arrived like a fever dream. The papaya farm was this converted greenhouse downtown strung with fairy lights, smelling like sweet fruit and teen sweat. The band was actually decent—some indie group called **Electric Bull**, which Maya had to admit was kind of a fire name.

She snapped photos in the corner, feeling awkward but useful. Then Tyler appeared, handing her a weird-looking fruit.

"Try this," he said. "It's a papaya. Fresh from the farm."

She took a bite. It was—surprisingly good? Sweet, musky, unlike anything she'd tasted.

"Not bad, right?" His smile was genuine. "Hey, thanks for coming. The pics are already blowing up our story."

Maya felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest. Not anxiety. Not that constant hum of what-do-people-think. Just—rightness.

"Anytime," she said, and this time her smile reached her eyes.

Later, checking her reflection in her phone before heading home, she made sure her teeth were spinach-free. Some things you only have to learn once.