Operation Green Smile

Maya's cafeteria mission was simple: sit two tables away from Jordan, look casually absorbed in conversation, and definitely not stare. Basically, she was a total spy, except without the cool gadgets or the paycheck.

"You're doing it again," whispered Riley, flicking a grape at her. "The laser focus. It's creepy."

"I'm gathering intel," Maya muttered, picking at her tray. "Information is power."

"Information that Jordan likes boring sandwiches is not power."

Maya rolled her eyes. Riley didn't get it. Jordan had transferred three weeks ago—mysterious, artsy, with this stupidly perfect hair that fell in effortless waves Maya couldn't achieve with twenty products and a prayer. They sat with the drama kids, laughed at inside jokes, and once caught Maya looking and actually smiled back.

That smile haunted her dreams. Pathetic? Yes. Real? Absolutely.

She was mid-covert glance when Jordan stood up and started walking toward her. Maya's brain short-circuited. This wasn't in the mission plan. Jordan was supposed to stay over there, looking perfect from a safe distance.

"Hey," Jordan said, sliding into the empty seat across from her. "Your backpack strap's caught on something."

Maya froze. Her voice abandoned her. Meanwhile, Riley was smirking so hard it looked painful.

"Oh!" Maya finally managed. "Thanks."

Jordan reached down to free the strap, and that's when it happened. Maya's reflection in the window showed it first—a tiny, vibrant green wedge of spinach wedged firmly between her front teeth. From lunch. Two hours ago.

She'd been walking around with salad in her smile for two hours. Possibly while Jordan smiled at her that time. Possibly while she'd been conducting her sophisticated "spy work" across the cafeteria for the past week.

"Oh my god," she whispered. The spinach was a glowing green betrayal. A sassy little fox of a vegetable, winking from its胜利 throne between her teeth.

Jordan's eyes crinkled with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. "You've got a little..."

They pointed to their own teeth, and Maya wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. This was it. Her social life was over. Jordan would tell everyone. She'd be Spinach Girl forever.

Maya grabbed her napkin. "Spinach," she mumbled. "Obviously."

"Happens to the best of us," Jordan said easily, like it wasn't the most humiliating moment of Maya's life. "I once walked around with chocolate on my face for an entire morning. Freshman year. My nickname was Cocoa for months."

"Really?" Riley asked, skeptical.

Jordan grinned. "Cross my heart. It builds character."

Something shifted in Maya's chest. The perfect, mysterious transfer student had spinach trauma too?

"Well," Maya said, finally freeing the spinach from its dental prison, "thanks for the rescue."

"Anytime." Jordan stood up. "Hey, some of us are going to the coffee shop after school to study. You should come. You seem cool."

As they walked away, Riley's jaw dropped. "Did you just get invited to coffee while picking spinach out of your teeth?"

Maya watched Jordan retake their seat, already laughing with their friends. "I think," she said slowly, "I just accidentally succeeded at my mission."

"Your mission was to look like a dork?"

"No," Maya smiled, "to get noticed. Mission accomplished."