Sweaty Palms & Social Spies

Maya's palms were sweating. Again.

She wiped them on her jeans—third time in five minutes—and adjusted her strapless mask. Not the cool superhero kind. The social kind. The one every freshman wears when they're terrified of saying the wrong thing in the high school cafeteria.

"You look like you're spying on someone," said Riley, sliding onto the bench across from her. Riley, who'd somehow already mastered the art of looking effortless in her oversized hoodie and perfectly messy bun.

"Just... observing," Maya mumbled, though her face burned. She wasn't proud of it, but she'd been watching the popular table for weeks. Learning their inside jokes. Their favorite padel tournament stories. The way they ordered avocado toast with extra everything.

It wasn't stalking. It was research.

Riley followed her gaze. "The Padel Court Royals? Trust me, they're not that deep."

Maya's stomach twisted. "That's what everyone calls them?"

"Since seventh grade." Riley's dog, a chaotic golden retriever mix, was somehow tied to the cafeteria bench—don't ask, don't tell—and currently attempting to eat someone's dropped sandwich wrapper. "Buster, no! Bad boy!"

Buster gave her the exact same look Maya's dad gave when caught eating leftover pizza at 2 AM. Whatever.

"Look," Riley said, turning back to her. "I saw you at the courts yesterday. You were actually decent."

Decent. The highest compliment she'd received since starting high school.

"My dad's obsessed with padel," Maya admitted. "Made me play since I was twelve."

"Then why aren't you playing with them?" Riley jerked her chin toward the Royals' table, where someone was dramatically recounting a match point.

Maya's palms sweated harder. "Because..."

Because she'd been too busy watching from the sidelines. Because she'd convinced herself she wasn't good enough. Because she'd forgotten how to be the girl who'd try anything without overthinking it into paralysis.

Riley's phone buzzed. Group chat notification. "Perfect. Jordan's inviting people to play this Saturday. You're coming."

"I—"

"Non-negotiable." Riley stood up, untangling Buster's leash. "Oh, and Maya?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got spinach in your teeth."

Maya's face burned hotter than ever.

"Kidding." Riley grinned. "But seriously—stop spying and start playing. See you Saturday."

Maya watched her walk away, Buster somehow stealing a second sandwich wrapper from another table without anyone noticing.

Her palms were still sweaty.

But for the first time since starting high school, Maya kind of couldn't wait to see what happened next.