Spinach Smoothies & Padel Dreams

Leo hated the way his mom's **spinach** smoothies turned his teeth slightly green. "It's packed with nutrients, mijo," she'd say in Spanish, handing him the glass before school. He'd chug it fast, hoping nobody noticed. Junior year was hard enough without being known as the guy with the plant-based smile.

But today was different. Today, he'd actually **talk** to Maya, the girl who played **padel** every Tuesday at the community court. Leo had been watching her from behind the library windows for weeks—graceful, focused, completely unaware of his existence. His sister Sofia had caught him staring yesterday.

"Just talk to her, loser," she'd said, feeding her **goldfish** another pinch of flakes. "Gerald doesn't judge you. Neither will she."

Gerald, the orange goldfish, swam in endless circles. Sometimes Leo felt like that—going nowhere but moving constantly.

"This **papaya** is from our garden," his abuela had told him at breakfast, slicing the fruit with practiced precision. "Bring some to share. Girls love boys who can cook."

Abuela's advice was questionable at best. But here Leo was, standing on the padel court, clutching a container of cubed papaya like it was a peace offering.

"You gonna stand there or play?" A boy with messy dark hair shouted. Not Maya. It was someone else—some guy from his history class. What was his name?

"I—um—" Leo stammered.

"Camilo," the guy said, grinning. "And that's Maya's cousin, Mateo. Maya's running late. You can warm up with us."

They hit the ball back and forth. Leo wasn't terrible, thanks to years of tennis his dad had forced on him. The papaya sat on the bench, untouched.

"¡Cuidado!" someone yelled from the parking lot.

A **dog**—a golden retriever, unleashed and overjoyed—bolted onto the court, snagging Leo's papaya container in mid-stride. Tropical fruit scattered across the clay like confetti.

"BUDDY! NO!" A girl sprinted over. Maya.

She was even prettier up close. Wavy dark hair, kind eyes, flushed cheeks from running. Leo's stomach did something ridiculous.

"I'm so sorry," she said, breathless. "Buddy never eats people's food. He must've really wanted papaya."

Leo laughed before he could stop himself. "My abuela grew it. She thought bringing fruit would impress someone."

"Did it?" Maya raised an eyebrow.

"Well," Leo looked at the orange fish-sized fruit cubes scattered everywhere, at Buddy happily munching on a papaya chunk, at the green smoothie stains he'd tried to hide all morning. "My dog is named Gerald."

"Gerald's a **dog** name?" Maya smirked.

"No, Gerald's my sister's goldfish. The dog's name is actually Pancake." Then, because why not, he added: "And I drank a spinach smoothie this morning that turned my teeth green."

Maya stared at him. Then she laughed—this genuine, surprising sound that made Leo want to hear it again.

"Well, Leo," she said, somehow knowing his name. "Your teeth look fine. But you should probably know—my cousin's been recording this whole thing."

Camilo held up his phone, grinning.

"You're trending," Mateo added.

Leo groaned, but he was smiling. Somehow, this wasn't the disaster he'd imagined. Somehow, this was better.

"Wanna play doubles?" Maya asked. "Unless you have more fruit to sacrifice."

Leo picked up his racquet. The green smoothie incident, the papaya disaster, the goldfish named Gerald—it all seemed like a sign. A weird, messy, perfect sign.

"I'm in," he said.

Buddy barked.

Gerald would've been proud.