Spy Games in Third Period

My hair was doing that thing again—the part where it decided physics was optional and formed its own gravitational system. I'd spent twenty minutes with the straightener, but three minutes into third period, it was already staging a rebellion.

"You look like you stuck a fork in an outlet," whispered Marcus, sliding into the seat behind me. His neon green headphones hung around his neck like a jewelry choice I'd never understand.

"Thanks, you're literally the best," I deadpanned, which was when I noticed Maya across the room was definitely NOT looking at me, which meant she was absolutely 100% spying on me through her phone screen.

Classic.

See, yesterday I'd made the mistake of telling Marcus—my ride-or-die since sixth grade when he threw a juice box at a bully—that I thought Maya was cute. Big mistake. Huge. Because now Marcus had decided we were in middle school again and was actively sabotaging me with zero chill.

"She's watching," he stage-whispered. "Do something cool."

"I'm literally just sitting here."

"That's the problem! You gotta present some rizz."

I hated when he used slang wrong. It was physically painful.

But the real problem was that my dog, Buster—an elderly Golden Retriever who looked like a golden cloud with judgment issues—had somehow gotten into my group chat last night and sent a single, solitary thumbs-up to Maya. My mom had "fixed" my phone and synced all our devices, so now my dog was apparently my wingman.

Maya thought it was me. Marcus thought it was legendary. I wanted to disappear.

"So," Maya said, suddenly appearing beside my desk. Her hair was perfect, naturally. "Did your dog send that thumbs-up?"

"He's very supportive," I managed. My face was doing something unfortunate.

"It's kinda cute," she said, and then—because the universe had a personal vendetta against my dignity—Buster's actual bark erupted from my pocket.

My mom had set that as his notification sound.

"Is that..." Maya raised an eyebrow.

"That's bull," Marcus interrupted, grinning like he'd won the lottery. "He's totally lying. That's his dog's ringtone. He's obsessed with that creature. It's weird, honestly."

I was going to murder him. Slowly. With feelings.

But Maya was laughing. Not the mean laugh. The real one.

"Well," she said, pulling a hair tie from her wrist, "at least he has good taste in thumbs-ups."

She winked. Actually winked. Then walked away like she hadn't just made my entire life.

Marcus high-fived me so hard my hand stung. "The dog strategy. I told you it would work."

"You're the worst," I said, but I was kind of smiling. "Also, never say 'rizz' again."

"No promises."