Spinach Between My Teeth

The bathroom mirror showed a stranger. Green hair—actually green, like "I made a mistake with temporary dye" green. My mom's voice drifted upstairs: "Leo! Eat your spinach before school!"

"Not hungry!" I lied. My stomach did backflips.

Today was THE day. Padel club tryouts. And Maya would be there. Maya with the perfect smile and the hair that cascaded like something from a shampoo commercial. The same Maya I'd been crushing on since seventh grade, now a junior like me.

The spinach situation wasn't about hunger. It was about Mom's new health kick—"antioxidants for your skin, Leo, you're breaking out." Which, rude but accurate. My forehead looked like a topographic map of emotional distress.

"LEO."

I grabbed the bowl. Downed the spinach like medicine. Glanced in the mirror one last time. My hair screamed "I'm trying too hard" but honestly, wasn't that just being sixteen?

The walk to school felt like a death march. Green hair. Spinach breath. Zero confidence. I'd practiced padel every day this summer, obsessively watching tutorials, dragging my dad to the court at 6 AM. But none of that mattered if I looked like a St. Patrick's Day decorations explosion.

"Leo!" It was Maya. "Your hair... it's cool?"

"Thanks," I squeaked. "It's temporary."

"Bold," she said, and something in her voice wasn't making fun of me. "I like it. You never take risks."

We walked together. My heart performed gymnastics I didn't know were possible.

Tryouts began. My palms sweated through my grip. Coach split us into pairs. "Mixed doubles! Let's see what you've got."

Maya ended up across from me, paired with Tyler (obviously). The ball came fast. I smashed it back. We traded shots, the satisfying *thwack* of padel against the fiberglass, the rhythm building.

"Nice!" Maya called when I nailed a corner shot.

I caught her eye. She was smiling.

Afterward, as we gathered our gear, Maya touched my arm. "Hey, you have a little..." She gestured to her teeth.

Spinach. From breakfast. Hiding in my braces, announcing itself to everyone I'd talked to for three hours.

My face burned. I started to turn away.

"It's fine," she said, and she actually laughed. Not mean laughter. The real kind. "My little brother gets spinach in his teeth all the time. We call it his 'third dinner.'"

I laughed too. The crushing weight lifted.

"Want to practice tomorrow?" she asked. "Before school?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, definitely."

That night, I looked in the mirror. Same green hair. Same forehead situation. But something was different. I'd made the team, sort of. I'd practiced with Maya. And tomorrow, I'd do it again.

Baby steps. And definitely flossing after spinach.