Spinach Lips & Bull Sessions

Marcus stood in front of his bathroom mirror, checking his reflection for the tenth time that morning. The new vitamin gummies his mom had bought—supposedly for 'teen skin clarity'—had done nothing for the breakout across his forehead. If anything, he looked more like a distress signal than a high school sophomore.

'Dude, you good?' His best friend Jaylen's voice came through the phone speaker. 'You've been in there for twenty minutes. The bell rings in fifteen.'

Marcus groaned. 'I can't go in today. Everyone's gonna see it.'

'Bruh, it's one zit. You're not starring in a Clearasil commercial. Just own it.'

Easy for Jaylen to say. His skin was flawless, and he'd already made varsity basketball. Marcus was still trying to figure out his thing—other than being the guy who'd once projectile-vomited during his seventh-grade presentation on the solar system.

At lunch, Marcus sat across from his crush, Chloe, while desperately trying to eat the spinach salad his mom packed (something about iron and brain development). The spinach had other plans. A stubborn piece clung to his front tooth, and he spent the entire meal smiling with his mouth closed, looking like he was hiding a dark secret.

'So, Marcus,' Chloe said, pushing her food around. 'You going to Jordan's party Friday?'

'Maybe?' He'd rather clean his fish tank with a toothbrush.

'You should come. It's gonna be lit.' She smiled, and his stomach did that annoying flutter thing.

That night, Marcus stared at his goldfish, Bubbles, who'd been suspiciously still lately. 'What's your secret, man? You just swim around, eat flakes, and nobody expects anything from you.'

Bubbles floated to the surface, opening and closing his mouth like he was about to drop some wisdom, then slowly swam away.

Marcus's phone buzzed. Jaylen: 'Jordan's asking if you're coming. Told him you're debating between studying and saving the world.'

'Man, whatever. I'm in.'

Friday arrived, and Marcus walked into Jordan's basement already packed with people. Someone had dragged out an old mechanical bull—Jordan's dad apparently won it in a poker game and kept it in the garage. Most people were just watching, waiting for someone to make a fool of themselves.

Then he saw it: Chloe, laughing with Tyler from the football team, who was currently showing off his bull-riding skills like he'd been born in a rodeo.

Marcus turned to leave.

'Yo, Marcus!' Jordan called out. 'Your turn, my guy!'

The room went quiet. Tyler smirked from his spot beside Chloe.

Marcus's legs moved before his brain could stop them. He climbed onto the mechanical bull, heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. The operator started it slow.

He could do this. Just grip with his knees, lean back—

Then the operator cranked it to maximum.

Marcus held on for exactly three seconds before flying off, landing directly in front of Chloe and Tyler. Someone gasped. Someone else laughed.

But Marcus stood up, dusted himself off, and shouted, 'Again!'

Three more tries. Three more spectacular dismounts. By the fourth attempt, half the room was cheering him on, including Chloe.

Monday at school, people he'd never spoken to fist-bumped him in the hallway. The breakout was still there, but nobody seemed to notice.

'You're insane,' Chloe told him by her locker, grinning. 'That was legendary.'

'Maybe,' Marcus said, finally flashing a full smile. 'I think I'm just getting started.'

Later that day, he fed Bubbles an extra pinch of fish flakes. 'Thanks for the pep talk, little man.'

The goldfish swam to the front of the tank and stared at him, then turned around and pooped.

Yeah. Marcus could work with that.