Spinach and the Screenshot

The cafeteria was a minefield, and Maya's tray was loaded with explosives.

"You gonna eat that?" Jordan asked, nodding at the spinach salad Maya had grabbed impulsively because her mom was on a health kick. Again.

"Maybe," Maya lied. She pushed the green stuff around with her fork while simultaneously checking her iPhone under the table. Three notifications from the group chat. No big deal, except it WAS a big deal because she'd been quiet all morning and people were starting to notice.

Jordan peeled an orange, the citrus scent cutting through the stale cafeteria air. "My mom says I need more Vitamin C. Says I look pale."

"You look fine," Maya said automatically, because that's what you said when a friend — and Jordan WAS her friend now, apparently — asked about their appearance. Even if Jordan's question made Maya hyper-aware of her own reflection in the darkened phone screen.

The thing about Jordan was, they'd just started sitting together this week. After Maya's old friend group had dissolved in that spectacular, drama-filled explosion back in October. The details still made Maya's stomach twist.

*Snap.*

Maya blinked. Jordan was holding up their phone, grinning. "Your face right now — you look like someone murdered your salad."

"Delete that," Maya said, reaching for Jordan's arm.

"Chill, I'm kidding." Jordan turned the screen. It was just a picture of Jordan's orange half-peeled like a sun. "But for real, you good? You've been checking your phone all lunch like it's gonna give you life advice."

Maya hesitated. The honest answer was no, she wasn't good. She was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Jordan to realize she wasn't worth the trouble, for the group chat to realize she'd been replaced. But admitting that felt too vulnerable, too freshman year.

"Just... checking stuff," Maya said weakly.

Jordan studied her for a second. Then deliberately, Jordan took a piece of spinach from their own salad and stuck it between their front teeth. "There. Now we're matching."

Maya stared. Then she snorted. Then she was laughing.

"You look ridiculous."

"I look authentic," Jordan said around the spinach. "Real recognizes real."

Maya's iPhone buzzed again. She let it.

"Want half this orange?" Jordan offered. "It's actually good."

Maya took it. The sections burst sweet and tart in her mouth. For the first time all week, she wasn't thinking about notifications, or old friendships, or whether she was saying the right thing.

She was just eating lunch with a friend who stuck spinach in their teeth to make her feel better.

And honestly? That was enough.