Greens and Games

The spinach kept sticking to my knife, stubborn as a bad decision. I'd been working at Beachside Brew for exactly three days, and my manager Gary had already deemed me the official salad prep person. The irony wasn't lost on me — I'd literally taken this job to escape the restaurant industry.

But here I was, halfway through summer before junior year, drowning in kale and arugula while my friends posted about pool parties I wasn't invited to. Not that I wanted to go to Chloe's party. Probably.

"Earth to Maya!" My coworker Rosa waved a hand in my face. "You're staring at the padel court again."

I wasn't staring. I was observing. There's a difference. The popular crowd — led by Chloe and her ridiculously perfect boyfriend Ethan — played padel every Tuesday and Thursday. From the cafe's giant windows, I had front-row seats to their seemingly perfect lives.

"I'm not staring," I lied. "I'm conducting research."

Rosa snorted. "You're literally being a creep right now."

"I prefer 'social spy.'"

She shook her head, but she was smiling. "You know they're just people, right? People who hit balls with racquets and sweat like everyone else."

Easy for her to say. Rosa wasn't invisible. Rosa didn't spend every lunch period alternating between studying and being intensely fascinated by the water fountain. Rosa was normal.

But then something weird happened. Thursday afternoon, as I was aggressively chopping spinach for the quinoa special, the cafe door chimed. In walked Ethan, alone, looking uncharacteristically not-perfect. His hair was damp — maybe from the ocean, maybe from sweat — and he kept fidgeting with his phone.

"Hey," he said, approaching the counter. "You're Maya, right? From English class?"

I froze. Chopped spinach forgotten. "Uh, yeah?"

"Chloe mentioned you work here." He leaned in, voice dropping. "I need your help."

My heart did something humiliating. "With what?"

"I want to get her something special. For our anniversary." He ran a hand through his hair. "But she's suspicious of everything. I need someone to... keep watch while I figure it out."

"You want me to spy on your girlfriend so you can plan a surprise?"

"You're observant," he said. "I've noticed how you watch us. You notice details."

Great. My social surveillance hadn't been as subtle as I'd thought.

"What's in it for me?" I heard myself say, surprised by my own boldness.

"I'll teach you to play padel," he offered. "Our group could use another player. Chloe's been wanting you to join, actually."

Wait. What?

"Chloe wants ME to play?"

"Dude, she thinks you're cool. Why do you think she keeps posting those party pics when she knows you're working? She's trying to make it look fun so you'll want to come." He checked his phone nervously. "She's been asking about you since freshman year. You're the one who never talks to anyone."

The spinach on my cutting board suddenly seemed very interesting. All this time, I'd been feeling like the outsider, the invisible girl watching from behind glass. But the glass was two-sided.

"Fine," I said. "I'm in. But I'm terrible at sports."

Ethan grinned, and for the first time, he looked like a normal person, not some untouchable popular god. "That's literally why it's fun. We're all terrible. Chloe once hit herself in the face with her own racquet."

Maybe I'd go to that party after all. But first — I had spinach to chop and a surprise to plan. Being a spy was exhausting, but somehow, I was exactly where I needed to be.