Screens and Salads

Maya stared at the cafeteria tray like it was hosting a personal intervention. The spinach sat there—green, mocking, fundamentally opposed to her existence. Across the table, Chloe was already deep in her phone, thumbs moving at lightning speed.

"Did you see Sarah's story?" Chloe asked without looking up. "Total flop."

Maya's iphone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it. She was trying to be present, or whatever the guidance counselor kept saying during their sessions about anxiety and digital overload. Turns out, being present mostly meant staring uncomfortably at vegetables while your best friend lived entirely in the group chat.

"I'm going vegetarian," Maya announced, mostly to see if Chloe would notice.

"Mmhmm," Chloe said. "Wait, what? Since when?"

"Since right now. It's an ethical thing."

"You literally ate pepperoni pizza yesterday."

"People change, Chloe. People grow."

Maya poked at the spinach with her fork. She thought about her brother's goldfish, Gerald, who'd lived for three years in a bowl that was definitely too small, swimming in endless circles, thinking he was going somewhere. That was her, wasn't it? Swimming through high school, making big declarations about ethics and identity, hoping something would finally feel real.

Her phone buzzed again. This time she checked.

ETHAN: hey

ETHAN: u at lunch?

Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when Ethan's name appeared on her screen—like she'd missed a step going downstairs. Three months she'd been crushing on him, and this was the first time he'd messaged first.

"What?" Chloe said, finally looking up. "You've got that face."

"What face?"

"The Ethan face."

Maya felt heat rise to her cheeks. "He just... he's messaging me."

Chloe dropped her phone on the table. "Okay, new plan. We ignore the spinach, we ignore my lack of personality, and we figure out what you're going to say back."

Maya smiled. Maybe this wasn't the dramatic coming-of-age moment she'd imagined. Maybe it wasn't some movie scene where everything changed in a single frame. But sitting here with Chloe, forgetting about the vegetables, staring at Ethan's message on her screen like it contained the secret to everything—this felt real enough.

"What if I just say 'hey'?" Maya asked.

"Boring," Chloe said. "We need to build mystique."

"Mystique?"

"Trust me. I've watched enough Netflix to know how this works."

Maya laughed, and for the first time all day, she didn't feel like she was swimming in circles.