Stuck in the Spinach

Marcus's palms were sweating so much he could practically fill a water bottle. Standing beside the **cable** car stop, he clutched his **baseball** glove like a lifeline. Today was tryouts, and apparently, his entire future happiness depended on making the JV team. Or at least that's what his older brother Ty kept telling him.

"Dude, you're overthinking it," Ty said, scrolling through his phone. "The real money isn't in sports anyway. I'm telling you, this **pyramid** scheme I joined—it's actually totally legit. My friend's cousin made five grand last month."

Marcus rolled his eyes so hard it actually hurt. "That's literally what a pyramid scheme IS, Ty. That's the definition."

Whatever. Marcus had bigger problems. Like the fact that Sophia Chen—the girl who'd been in his homeroom since seventh grade but had suddenly become unrecognizably gorgeous over the summer—was walking toward him. Her **palm** tree-print tote bag bounced against her hip, and Marcus felt his stomach execute a full gymnastics routine.

"Hey Marcus!" she called. "Big day?"

"Yeah," he managed, his voice cracking approximately three times. "Baseball. You know."

"Good luck!" She grinned, and then Marcus noticed it—a tiny, devastating piece of bright green **spinach** wedged between her front teeth.

And in that moment, Marcus faced the ultimate teenage dilemma: tell the prettiest girl in school she had **spinach** in her teeth and risk eternal awkwardness, or say nothing and be complicit in her future social humiliation?

His brain short-circuited. "You've got—" He pointed vaguely at his own mouth.

Sophia's eyes widened. She covered her mouth with her hand, turned the color of a ripe tomato, and mouthed "oh my god" before sprinting toward the nearest bathroom.

Marcus stood there, glove in hand, watching the **cable** car approach in the distance. His brother started laughing.

"Smooth, Marcus. Real smooth."

But then Sophia came back. **Spinach**-free. And instead of pretending he didn't exist, she sat down on the bench beside him.

"Thanks," she said, quietly. "Most people would've just let me walk around like that all day."

Marcus's palms stopped sweating. For the first time all morning, he wasn't thinking about **baseball** or tryouts or the terrifying social **pyramid** of high school.

"Anytime," he said. And he meant it.