Spinach Apocalypse

Maya's phone buzzed with Lucas's text: *almost there, you ready?* She groaned, staring at her reflection. The Friday night luau theme had seemed like a brilliant idea two weeks ago. Now? She looked like a coconut-scented disaster.

"You look adorable," her little sister Kayla announced, sprawled across Maya's bed like a literal zombie. "Very island vibes."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." Maya smoothed her flower crown. "Help me with this lei?"

Kayla sat up, finally. "Did you eat?"

"I'm fine."

"Bear in mind, you skipped lunch." Kayla pointed at Maya's desk, where a sad container of leftover spinach sat ignored. "That's not gonna cut it."

Maya rolled her eyes but grabbed a handful of the spinach leaves anyway. Whatever. It was healthy. She was being responsible.

The doorbell rang.

Panic mode: ACTIVATED.

She swallowed the spinach half-chewed. Frantically checked her teeth in the mirror—

Green. Everywhere. Stuck like glitter at a music festival.

"MAYA," Kayla hissed. "Your smile looks like a salad."

The doorbell again. More persistent this time.

Maya scrubbed with her finger. No luck. Toothbrush? Too aggressive. Mouthwash? That would take too long. She was about to meet her crush with a mouth that looked like she'd been grazing in a field.

"Just—just don't smile weirdly," Kayla whisper-yelled. "Or tilt your head. Or breathe too hard."

"Thanks, super helpful."

Maya took a breath, opened the door, and there he was. Lucas. Wearing that stupidly perfect grin and a Hawaiian shirt that somehow worked on him.

"Hey!" he said. "You look—"

"DON'T LOOK AT MY TEETH," Maya blurted.

Dead silence.

Lucas blinked. "I was gonna say you look great, but... okay?"

Kayla dissolved into giggles somewhere behind her.

Maya's face burned. This was it. This was how she died. Social execution via spinach. She'd bear this humiliation forever, immortalized as the girl who showed up to first date with vegetable decorations.

"I have spinach in my teeth," she whispered. "Like. A lot."

Lucas stared at her for one eternal second. And then he started laughing. Not mean laughing—genuine, doubled-over laughing.

"Dude," he said, pulling a small compact mirror from his pocket. "I have it too."

He flashed a smile with three bright green leaves stuck front and center.

"I came straight from my mom's place," he explained. "She made that salad she's obsessed with and I was running late and—"

"You're kidding."

"Swear to god." He held up the mirror. "We match."

Maya started giggling. Then full-on laughing. The tension evaporated like fog in the sun.

"We're such disasters," she said.

"Epic disasters." He offered his arm. "Ready to go, Salad Queen?"

"Lead the way, Spinach Prince."

As they walked to his car, Kayla called from the doorway: "Use protection! For your teeth!"

Maya didn't even turn around. Some embarrassments were worth bearing. Especially when they came with matching spinach grins and a boy who carried a compact mirror in his pocket like he was ready for anything.