Spinach Smoothie Incident

Maya's day started with a goldfish funeral and ended with her social life officially over. RIP, Fin. The little guy had survived three family road trips and a cat named Beelzebub, but apparently couldn't handle whatever weird algae bloom happened overnight. And now, Maya was late, clutching a plastic baggie with her deceased pet while running toward Jefferson High like her actual life depended on it.

Which it kind of did. Because today was THE day—the day she'd finally talk to Caleb, the absolute dreamboat who sat behind her in AP Bio, without saying something deeply unhinged. Her game plan: spinach smoothie for breakfast (healthy = glowing skin = confidence), cool outfit (vintage oversized blazer, very indie sleaze aesthetic), and zero awkward encounters.

Fate clearly didn't get the memo.

The sky opened up the second she turned onto Maple Street. Lightning cracked—literally cartoon-villain weather—as rain absolutely POUNDED. The blazer? Ruined. The smoothie? Somehow still intact, which felt like a win until she reached the cafeteria and saw HIM. Caleb. Standing right there.

"Hey Maya," he said, and her brain short-circuited. Instead of responding like a normal human, she panicked and gestured vaguely with the smoothie cup, which proceeded to launch itself spinach-first onto his pristine white t-shirt. Green everywhere. He looked down. She looked down. The entire cafeteria looked.

"My goldfish died this morning," she blurted, because evidently that was the only thing her traumatized brain could come up with.

Caleb stared at her, spinach dripping dramatically, and then—he laughed. Not mean laughing, but like, actually laughing. "That's the most metal excuse I've ever heard for ruining my shirt."

He grabbed some napkins and started cleaning up, totally chill about it. She helped, somehow transitioning from human disaster to someone having a conversation with her crush. They talked about pets and the weird weather and how cafeterias always served pizza that tasted like despair.

By lunch, Maya's blazer was damp, her shirt had a suspicious green splotch, and she'd somehow managed to schedule a study session with Caleb for Friday. Fin would've approved. That little fish, absolute legend that he was, hadn't just survived—he'd orchestrated.