Spinach Between My Teeth

The padel court at Westbridge Academy was basically church on Fridays, and Marcus was definitely not a believer.

"Dude, just come," Tia begged, spinning a padel racquet like a baton. "It's not even that hard. You literally just hit the ball against a wall."

Marcus shifted his backpack, hiding the frayed cable he'd duct-taped that morning because his mom couldn't afford a replacement charger. "Pass. I've got... stuff."

"Stuff?" Tia raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Like the fact that his family couldn't afford the club membership. Like how he'd been smuggling sandwiches from the cafeteria because his paycheck from the grocery store went straight to his little sister's field trips. Like the enormous piece of spinach wedged between his front teeth that he'd discovered three periods ago and couldn't dislodge.

"Homework," he said instead.

"Marcus, come ON." Jamie appeared beside Tia, all designer sweatshirt and easy confidence. They were the kind of friend group that moved as a unit, impenetrable as a fortress. "We need a fourth for mixed doubles. Please?"

The word hit like a physical thing. Please. From Jamie Collins, whose dad owned half the real estate in town.

Marcus's stomach did that thing where it simultaneously tried to escape his body and dissolve entirely. "One game," he heard himself say. "But I'm terrible."

"You'll be fine!" Tia grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the courts. "It's just padel. It's not like we're bearing the weight of humanity here."

Bearing. The word stuck. Marcus thought about his mom bearing the weight of two jobs, about his neighbors bearing the brunt of rising rents, about how he'd been bearing his secret for months—that his family was one bad month away from not making rent, that he'd been eating nothing but cafeteria spinach salad and cheap bread for lunch to save money.

On the court, everything blurred into motion and laughter. Marcus missed every shot, but Jamie and Tia didn't care. They high-fived him anyway. They made jokes that weren't at his expense.

Afterward, sitting on the bench while Tia bought Gatorades from the vending machine, Jamie said, "Hey, you know how you were acting weird earlier?"

Marcus's heart hammered. "Yeah?"

"You had spinach in your teeth," Jamie said casually. "Whole time."

Marcus froze. The shame burned hot up his neck.

"But like," Jamie continued, "we should have told you. That's on us. Sorry, man."

Marcus blinked. "Wait, you still... you still want me to play Friday?"

"Dude," Jamie said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're the worst player I've ever seen, and you're still laughing the whole time. That's rare. Besides—" he nodded toward Tia returning with drinks "—she thinks you're cool. And Tia's got good instincts."

The cable in Marcus's pocket felt a little lighter. Maybe next week he'd even tell them the truth about it. Maybe. For now, he just took the Gatorade and said, "Same time Friday?"

"Friday," Jamie grinned. "But seriously, check your teeth first."