Spinach Teeth & Saturday Night

Maya's reflection in the bathroom mirror revealed her worst nightmare: a giant piece of **spinach** wedged between her front teeth. She'd been talking to Jay for twenty minutes at this party, smiling and laughing at his mediocre jokes, with green salad decorating her smile like some kind of awful accessory.

"I'm literally going to die," she whispered to herself, digging with her fingernail while her heart hammered against her ribs like it was trying to break out of her chest. This was it. This was how her social life ended at sixteen—not with a bang, but with a leafy green vegetable.

She scrubbed her hands under freezing **water**, trying to calm down. The bathroom was the only safe space in this house full of seniors who seemed to know exactly how to be at parties. Maya had spent the whole night nursing the same cup of fruit punch, hovering near the snack table, and wishing she could teleport back to her bed with Netflix and zero social interaction.

A noise made her jump. The house's elderly **cat**, Barnaby, slunk into the bathroom and wound around her legs, purring like a tiny motor. He was probably hiding from the party too.

"At least someone gets it," Maya whispered, scratching behind his ears. Barnaby had the right idea—disappear until people left.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from her best friend: "how's it going??"

Maya typed back: "had spinach in my teeth for 20 minutes. leaving now."

She opened the bathroom door to make her escape, but the HDMI **cable** was snaked across the hallway, connecting someone's laptop to the TV for music. Someone tripped over it, sending a wave of laughter through the living room. Maya froze, but then something happened—Jay stumbled, laughed at himself, and kept dancing like nothing mattered.

The spinach was gone. The embarrassment wasn't fatal. And maybe—just maybe—nobody actually cared that much about being perfect.

Maya stepped into the living room, grabbed a fresh cup of punch, and actually smiled. For real this time.