Spinach Between Teeth

Maya's palms were literally sweating so hard she was leaving fingerprints everywhere. Which was hilarious, because she was currently standing at the deep end of Johnson's pool, surrounded by half the sophomore class, wearing a bikini she'd bought specifically because it made her look "effortlessly chill." Spoiler: nothing about this felt effortless.

The pool party was supposed to be her chance to finally talk to Diego—the guy who'd sat behind her in bio since September and somehow made mitosis look fascinating. Maya had spent three hours perfecting the "I'm not trying too hard" makeup look. She'd practiced her laugh in the mirror. She was READY.

Then came the spinach dip.

Her brain: *Maybe don't eat the spinach dip right before talking to your crush.*

Her mouth: *Watch me.*

Now she was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out if she had spinach in her teeth without making it obvious she was checking for spinach in her teeth. The internal monologue was reaching pyramid levels of overthinking: What if she did? What if she didn't? What if she asked and he said yes? What if she asked and he said no but was lying? What if—

"Maya! You swimming or what?" Diego was already in the pool, splashing water like he owned the place. His hair was wet and perfect and honestly offensive.

"Yeah! Totally!" Her voice cracked. A symphony of absolute disaster. "Just... gotta do a thing first."

She speed-walked to the bathroom, doing that awkward half-run where you're trying to look casual but everyone knows you're fleeing. Mirror check: no visible spinach. But her palms were still sweating like she'd just run a marathon.

*Forget it,* she thought. *Just own it. If there's spinach, there's spinach. If he judges you for having food in your teeth, he's not worth it anyway.*

She walked back to the pool, toes curled at the edge, and cannonballed into the deep end. Water everywhere. Diego laughing. Her hair plastered to her face like a wet cat. And somehow—this was the weird part—she felt okay.

"Nice splash," Diego said, grinning. "You have a little..." He mimed his own teeth, and Maya's stomach dropped.

"Spinach?" she asked, and they both started laughing. "I knew it. I literally knew it and I still ate the dip."

"It's cool," he said, and something in his voice made her believe him. "You jumped in anyway. That's kinda legendary."

Maybe being a teenager wasn't about being perfect. Maybe it was about the spinach, the sweat, the cannonballs—and the people who laughed with you anyway.