Orange Crush Operation

I was running down the hallway, late for third period bio again, when I saw it — Cara slipping into the teachers' lounge with an **orange** notebook clutched to her chest. My best friend since seventh grade, sneaking around like she was in some teen spy movie.

"Cara!" I caught up to her at her locker. "What was that about?"

She looked guilty. "Nothing. Just... journalism stuff."

"You hate journalism," I pointed out, crossing my arms. "You're literally failing that class."

"I'm turning over a new leaf. Like **spinach**." She grimaced. "Okay, bad example. But seriously, Maya, I've got this under control."

But she didn't. Because two days later, I caught her **running** out of the gym with someone's backpack — Elena's backpack. Elena, the perfect, popular girl who'd somehow gotten Cara's crush Jason to notice her.

"Are you **spy**ing on her?" I confronted Cara behind the bleachers. "That's actually insane."

"I'm not spying!" Cara hissed. "I'm gathering evidence. Elena's not who she says she is. I saw her sneaking around the computer lab after school, doing something shady."

"So you stole her backpack?" I felt sick. "Cara, this isn't you. We're supposed to be friends."

"I'm doing this for us!" she shot back. "Jason deserves to know who he's actually dealing with."

I'd never felt more torn. Cara was my person, but this? This was next-level obsessive behavior. I remembered finding a piece of **spinach** in my teeth last year at the spring dance, and how Cara had laughed so hard she'd nearly spilled punch everywhere. That was us — the awkward, funny, real us. Not whatever this was.

"You have to give it back," I said quietly. "And we need to talk about why you're doing this."

Cara slumped against the bleachers. "I'm just scared. Elena's so much prettier, smarter, more interesting than me. What if Jason realizes that?"

"He already likes you, dummy," I said. "That's kind of the problem."

She looked at me, really looked at me, and I saw the fear underneath all that crazy behavior. The fear of not being enough, of losing something she'd just found.

"I'll help you return it," I said. "But after? We're getting bubble tea and you're paying."

"Deal." She grinned sheepishly. "Extra boba?"

"Obviously."

Some things never change.