Spinach Teeth and Second Chances

I was practically a zombie after staying up until 3 AM scrolling through Leo's Instagram. My hair looked like a bird's nest—this is what happens when you impulsively dye it purple at 2 AM during a spiral of "maybe this will make me interesting." Spoiler: it didn't.

"You look like you haven't slept in a week," Maya said, sliding into the cafeteria seat across from me. "Also, you have something in your teeth."

I sprinted to the bathroom, running like my life depended on it. Spinach. From lunch yesterday. I'd been talking to Leo with spinach in my teeth for FORTY-FIVE MINUTES yesterday afternoon. The humiliation burned through my chest like heartburn from that questionable taco.

Leo, the baseball captain with the perfect smile and the annoying habit of making everyone feel special when he talked to them. He'd asked me about my art project. He'd listened. He'd smiled.

And I'd had spinach in my teeth.

"I'm never showing my face again," I announced when I returned to our table.

Maya looked up from her phone. "Drama queen. Want to know what Leo said when I asked him about yesterday?"

I narrowed my eyes. "That girl with the spinach was hilarious?"

"That you're really passionate about art and he thinks your sketch of the old oak tree is actually incredible. He didn't even notice the spinach."

I paused. "Wait, really?"

"Boys are oblivious, but they're not blind." Maya grinned. "He's having people over Friday to watch that new zombie movie. You should come. Bring your sketchbook."

Maybe purple hair wasn't a personality makeover. Maybe I didn't need one. Maybe I was just a girl who drew trees, got spinach in her teeth, and sometimes stayed up too late overthinking everything.

"I'll be there," I said, and for the first time in weeks, the zombie-like exhaustion lifted. "But I'm definitely checking my teeth first."