Operation Green Smoothie

Maya's freshman year survival guide had three rules: (1) Never wear the same outfit twice in one week, (2) Always sit at the third table from the back in the cafeteria—neither too cool nor too lame—and (3) Absolutely, positively do not let anyone know she spent her summer watching her mom's wellness influencer videos.

But then came the Tuesday That Changed Everything.

Maya was blending her morning smoothie—frozen mango, banana, and a massive handful of **spinach** that turned everything an alarming shade of swamp green—when her phone buzzed. Emma, the girl who sat behind her in bio and had exactly 2,847 Instagram followers, had posted a story: "please help I can't find him anywhere 🥺"

Him. Connor Matthews. The boy who'd transferred in three weeks ago with his skateboard and that one perfect curl that fell over his left eye. The same boy Emma had been making heart eyes at since forever.

Maya's thumb hovered. Then she did something completely out of character: she began to **spy**.

Emma's story was a cascade of concerned posts. Connor's last update had been Saturday evening—something about going to his cousin's ranch. By Monday, he'd vanished. No texts, no Snapchat streaks, nothing.

Maya opened Connor's profile again. Saturday night. A photo of a massive **bull** staring down the camera lens, captioned "bouta do something stupid." The next story was him standing next to the animal, wearing a protective vest. Then: black screen. Caption: "well that went"

"Oh my god," Maya whispered.

She found Emma at lunch, poking nervously at her tray. "Emma. I think I know where Connor is."

Emma's eyes went wide. "What? How?"

"I saw his last story." Maya pulled up the screenshot. "That ranch? It's his uncle's place in Lancaster. My cousin knows him—they do those riding events on weekends. Connor probably got hurt and his phone died or something."

Emma grabbed her arm. "We have to go. Like, right now."

"What? We can't just—"

"We can and we will. My older sister can drive us."

Three hours later, they were standing in front of a tiny hospital in Lancaster, holding the world's most awkward get-well gift: a jumbo bottle of multivitamins from the CVS across the street because neither of them knew what else to buy.

The nurse pointed them to room 112. Connor was lying there with a cast on his leg and a sheepish grin on his face.

"You tried to ride a **bull**," Emma said, trying to sound stern but failing.

"It was a very small **bull**," Connor protested. "And I would've stuck it for eight seconds if my cousin hadn't left the gate open."

"You're so lucky you didn't die," Maya added. "We literally brought you these." She handed over the vitamins.

Connor examined the bottle. "Multivitamins? Really?"

"It's what my mom says helps with recovery," Maya lied.

Emma was laughing now. "This is the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened to me."

And the weirdest part? Maya didn't even care that she'd broken all three of her freshman year rules. Some things were more important than being cool.

Like discovering that maybe, just maybe, she was the kind of person who'd drive two hours to bring a boy vitamins because his friends were worried about him.

That thought deserved another spinach smoothie. Extra mango this time.