Spinach Between My Teeth

My hair was having a straight-up existential crisis. Eighth period outdoor ed, and thanks to Oregon's legendary humidity, my brown curls had expanded into a frizz cloud the size of a small continent.

"You're up, Maya," said Jordan, flashing that devastating half-smile that made half the eighth grade swoon. Padel. The sport I'd somehow never heard of until we moved here. Now I was expected to play in PE while looking like a human electrocuted poodle.

I gripped the racket, my palms sweating. Nobody told me padel was basically tennis but with walls you could strategically smash the ball against. Cool concept, terrifying when you've never played.

Jordan served. I lunged. Missed. The ball ricocheted off the back wall and nailed me right in the shoulder.

"My bad," Jordan called out, jogging over. "You okay?"

"Totally fine," I lied, rubbing my shoulder. "Just breaking in the new equipment."

He laughed. Not mean laughter. The good kind. But then his eyes went wide.

"You've got—" He pointed at his own teeth.

I froze. Lunch. Spinach salad. The one health food my mom had successfully tricked me into liking. And now it was starring in my personal horror movie, wedged between my front teeth like a microscopic green flag of social suicide.

I couldn't bear it. Three weeks at this school, three weeks of carefully curating my vibe, and spinach was about to ruin everything.

"Oh my god," I muttered, turning away.

"Wait, Maya—" Jordan started.

I bolted toward the water fountain, humiliated tears already stinging my eyes. But Jordan grabbed my wrist gently.

"Everyone gets spinach in their teeth," he said. "Last month? I had broccoli stuck in my braces during my presentation. Whole class saw. Mr. Harrison definitely saw."

I snorted. I couldn't help it.

"And your hair," Jordan added, "it's kind of awesome. Like, genuinely. Mine does this thing in humidity where I look like I stuck a fork in an electrical outlet."

He ran a hand through his golden curls, which were—okay, slightly frizzy. Nowhere near my level, but the gesture made something in my chest loosen.

"You want to try that serve again?" Jordan asked. "I'll go easy on you."

I checked my reflection in the water fountain. Spinch-free. Hair still a disaster, but whatever. Some disasters were worth embracing.

"You're going down, Campbell," I said, picking up my racket.

He grinned. "Bring it, Frizz Queen."

And just like that, I didn't hate outdoor ed anymore.