Operation Green Teeth

Maya pressed her back against the cafeteria wall, phone clutched like a weapon in her sweating palm. Her best friend Sarah's text burned bright on screen: "Find out if Tyler likes me. I'm dying here."

"You're literally asking me to be a spy," Maya had responded. "In the cafeteria. During lunch. While I have spinach in my braces."

The spinach situation had started three days ago when her mom went on a health kick. Now Maya's lunchbox was a vegetable prison, and she'd spent 48 hours terrified to open her mouth. Which was exactly why Sarah's request was cursed.

Tyler sat two tables away, laughing with his friends like life wasn't a minefield of social extinction events. Sarah and Maya had beenjoined at the hip since seventh grade—through braces disasters, first periods in white pants, that time Maya cried over a B in math. But freshman year had changed everything. Sarah had straightened her hair and learned to talk to boys like they were regular humans. Maya was still mostly awkward panic.

"Just ask him what he thinks about the English project," Sarah had insisted. "Casual. Natural. Like you don't have a giant piece of green vegetation stuck in your teeth."

Maya's stomach did that thing where it simultaneously wanted to explode and disappear. She hated this. Hated feeling like Sarah's sidekick. Hated that her friend's romantic life depended on Maya's social competence.

"You know what?" Maya stood up, ignoring the way her hands shook. "I'm not doing it."

"What?" Sarah's face fell. "Please?"

"No. Ask him yourself." Maya grabbed her tray. "Also, you had spinach in your teeth all morning. Just so you know."

Sarah gasped, hands flying to her mouth, while Maya walked away feeling like she'd just faced a bear and survived. Her teeth still felt gross, but somehow, the idea of smiling didn't seem so scary anymore.