Spinach Mouth and The Sphinx

I leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing my lukewarm punch and feeling like the world's biggest fraud. The party raged in the next room—Jordan's annual rager that everyone who was anyone attended. And by some miracle, I was invited.

My yellow lab, Buster, would've been better at this. He'd just wag his tail and everyone would love him. Instead, I stood here clutching a plastic cup like it was a lifeline, trying to look chill.

"Hey, you're Maya's friend, right?"

I turned and almost choked. Alex Chen. The Alex Chen. Junior class secretary, varsity tennis, and somehow managed to make AP Calculus look aesthetic.

"Yeah, that's me," I managed, internally screaming at my voice for sounding so squeaky.

"Cool party." He gestured at the spinach artichoke dip on the counter. "You try this? Actually mid."

I nodded vigorously because my mouth was suddenly full. That's when I felt it—the spinach stuck between my front teeth. The universal horror. My face burned hotter than a thousand suns.

Then came Jordan, our hostess, radiating that terrifying energy of someone who peaks in high school and doesn't care who knows it. She swept in like she owned the place (which, technically, she did), wearing an orange dress that screamed I'm better than you and you know it.

"Alex! There you are!" She looped her arm through his like a snake claiming its prey. "We're playing Never Have I Ever in the basement. You coming?"

He glanced at me, and for a split second, I thought—hoped—

"Nah, I'm gonna finish my conversation here," he said.

Jordan's eyes narrowed, taking me in like I was a puzzle she couldn't quite solve. Her expression was exactly like the Sphinx's—inscrutable, judgmental, ancient. "Right. Well. Don't stay in the kitchen all night. It's tragic."

She whisked him away, and I was alone again. Just me, the spinach dip, and my spinach teeth.

I headed to the bathroom to fix my teeth, splashing cold water on my face first. The mirror reflected someone who looked small and uncertain. But then I thought about Alex staying. About Jordan calling me tragic like it was a bad thing.

I straightened up. Tragic? No. I was a work in progress. We all were.

Back at the party, I grabbed a fresh cup, found Maya, and actually talked to people. Not because I suddenly became confident, but because being awkward was better than being invisible.

And when I ended up next to Alex again, spinach-free and ready, he smiled. "Glad you came out of the kitchen."

"Me too," I said, and for once, I actually meant it.