Spinach Teeth & the Cafeteria Apocalypse

Maya's social life didn't die with a bang. It died with a piece of spinach stuck in her braces during third period lunch.

She'd been crushing on Leo since September, when he'd complimented her rare vinyl collection. Today was finally the day she'd work up the courage to sit at his table. She'd even planned her outfit: the vintage band tee she'd thrifted, denim jacket, carefully curated effortlessness.

The morning started suspiciously well. Her mom actually made her favorite green smoothie—not the gross kind, but the good one with mango and just enough **spinach** to make it feel healthy without tasting like lawn clippings. Maya was feeling confident, ready to make her move.

Then came lunch period.

She spotted Leo immediately. He was laughing at something Jordan said, that crinkly-eyed smile that made Maya's stomach do gymnastics. This was it. Her moment. She grabbed her tray and headed over, mentally rehearsing her casual opening line. Hey, mind if I crash? Simple. Low stakes.

She was three steps from his table when Brianna waved her over, eyes wide. "Maya, wait—"

Too late. She'd already set her tray down and slid into the empty seat beside Leo.

"Hey!" Leo said, actual excitement in his voice. "Maya, right? From music appreciation?"

"Yeah!" Her voice came out weirdly squeaky. "That's me. Music. And stuff."

Smooth. Real smooth.

Brianna was still making frantic hand signals, but Maya ignored her. She was IN. The conversation was flowing. Leo asked about her favorite bands. She didn't say anything embarrassing. She was killing it.

"You've got a little—" Leo started, gesturing toward his own teeth.

Maya froze. She excused herself to the bathroom and there it was in the mirror: a bright green piece of **spinach** wedged firmly in her front brackets, on full display for the last twenty minutes.

She died inside. Right there. Actual death.

She walked home feeling like a **zombie**—the slow, shambling, destroyed-from-within kind. Not even the cool modern type. The old-school, pathetic kind that gets killed immediately in every movie.

Her **dog**, Barnaby, met her at the door like nothing was wrong, because Barnaby was a good boy who didn't care about social hierarchies or permanent humiliation. He just wanted belly rubs and maybe some of that leftover roast beef.

Maya flopped onto her bed, replaying the tragedy on loop. She would never recover. This was it. She'd be known as Spinach Girl forever. They'd whisper about her in the hallways. Did you hear? She tried to flirt with Leo with a salad in her teeth.

Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.

Hey, this is Leo. Brianna gave me your number. This is gonna sound weird but can I FaceTime you? I need to tell you something.

Maya stared at the screen. What could he possibly need to say? Sorry for your loss? Here's a membership to the Spinach Teeth Support Group?

She answered anyway, because dignity was overrated anyway.

Leo's face appeared. He looked weirdly nervous.

"So I didn't get to say this earlier because—well, you saw your teeth and panicked—"

Maya groaned. "Please don't."

"No, listen!" Leo laughed. "I was gonna say, I think it's actually kind of badass that you just go for it. Most people wouldn't have the confidence to walk over with spinach in their teeth and just own it like that. That's some main character energy."

Maya blinked. "That's—" She paused. "That's the weirdest compliment I've ever received."

"I mean it genuinely," Leo said. "Also, Barnaby is the goodest boy? I saw you walking him once and I've been wanting to ask about him forever."

"Wait, you've seen me?"

"Yeah, I see you around. I've been waiting for you to notice me."

Maya's **zombie** heart did a little flutter-beat thing. Maybe social death had its perks.

"Tomorrow," Leo said. "Sit with me again? But maybe check a mirror first? Just a suggestion."

She was already planning her outfit.