Spinach Between My Teeth

The thing about **running** the family food truck isn't the running itself—it's that my mom thinks 'authentic Mexican cuisine' needs to be spelled out in glitter letters on the side. I'm seventeen. I have a reputation to maintain at Northwood High, and every Friday after school, instead of being at the mall or Starbucks like normal people, I'm stuck at Tía Rosa's Tacos, wearing an apron that says '¡Ay, caramba!'

So when Jake Miller—actual lacrosse captain, Jake Miller, whose jawline could cut glass—walked up to the window yesterday, I naturally panicked. My palms were sweating so much I nearly dropped his change. I'd been crushing on him since seventh period English, where he sat behind me and constantly spun a basketball on his finger.

"One spicy pork burrito, right?" I said, channeling my inner cool. Smooth. Professional.

He smiled. That smile that probably made half the freshman class swoon. "Yeah, thanks."

I handed over the foil-wrapped burrito with what I thought was a flirtatious wink. He took it, said "See ya, Elara," and walked toward his waiting friends.

His friends were waiting. Watching. laughing.

Then I heard it: Marcus Chen, the human embodiment of every **bull**y stereotype ever, practically shouting across the parking lot. "Yo Jake! Check it out—Elara's got **spinach** in her teeth!"

My face burned. I checked the reflective surface of the prep station. Nothing. No spinach. Just Marcus being Marcus, because apparently making girls feel like garbage is his personality.

Jake turned back, looked me dead in the eye, and shrugged. "Looks fine to me, Marcus. Maybe you need glasses." Then he actually took a bite of his burrito and said, "Best in town, seriously."

Marcus shut up. Jake's friends stopped laughing. And I? I stood there in my glitter-covered apron, realizing something important: some people are worth their weight in gold foil, and others? They're just background noise.

Now whenever Jake comes by, I make sure his burrito has extra cilantro. And sometimes, just sometimes, I think he smiles a little bigger when he sees it's me at the window.

My mom still doesn't get why I'm suddenly more enthusiastic about Friday shifts. Some secrets are worth keeping, you know?