The Art of Being Invisible

Maya had mastered the art of the cafeteria **spy** game. Head down, earbuds in (even though nothing was playing), she'd observe the popular table like it was her job. Which, technically, it wasn't — but her crush on Jordan had basically become unpaid work.

Thursday brought the lunch lady's famous "salad" — which was mostly just wilted **spinach** that looked like it had survived a natural disaster. Maya was poking at it skeptically when Jordan walked past, their tray balanced perfectly. Jordan. With their perfect hair and their perfect friends and their perfect life.

Then disaster struck. Some freshman bumped into Jordan, and his lunch went flying. Spinach everywhere. All over Jordan's white hoodie. The entire cafeteria went silent.

Maya didn't think. She just grabbed her backpack and bolted, **running** out the side door like she'd committed a crime. Her brain was screaming WHAT ARE YOU DOING but her legs were already committed to the bit.

She ended up behind the school, near the old shed where the stray **cat** lived. The orange tabby — Maya called him Captain — blinked at her like she was ridiculous.

"Yeah, I know," Maya muttered, sinking to the ground. "I'm being weird."

Captain butted his head against her knee.

"I just... I froze, okay? I should've helped him. Or laughed it off. But I just ran. Like I always do."

The cat purred, unimpressed with her existential crisis.

Footsteps crunched on gravel. Maya looked up to see Jordan standing there, spinach-stained hoodie and all. They were holding something out — Maya's phone, which she'd left at her table.

"You dropped this," Jordan said. Then, grinning: "Nice tactical retreat, by the way. 10/10 form."

Maya's face burned. "I — yeah. I'm professional-level awkward."

"Same," Jordan said, sitting down beside her. "I literally have spinach in my hair and I'm still sitting here talking to the cute girl who ran away from my lunch disaster."

Wait. CUTE?

Captain the cat made a smug-sounding noise.

"Next time," Jordan said, "maybe don't run? We could've suffered together."

"Next time," Maya agreed, her heart doing something completely unprofessional in her chest.

Somewhere, the bell rang. Neither of them moved.