The Art of Faking It

Leo's phone buzzed with another text from Maya: "still coming to jason's? everyone's gonna be there 💅"

He stared at his reflection. The old Leo would've been pumped—Varsity baseball jacket, starter at shortstop, campus golden boy. But that Leo died three weeks ago when he quit the team after his dad's weirdly intense "you're throwing your future away" speech. Now he was just... Leo. Unlabelled. Unspecified.

The family's golden retriever, Buster, nudged his knee with a wet nose. Leo sighed, scratching behind the dog's ears. "At least you don't care about social capital, Bust."

His mom appeared in the doorway,holding a Tupperware container. "Sweetie, I made you something to bring to the party."

"Mom, no one brings food to Jason's. It's weird."

"It's spinach artichoke dip! Your favorite."

"I haven't liked spinach since I was seven, MOM."

She blinked. "But... you told me it was your favorite last week?"

Crap. He'd said that to avoid eating her cauliflower casserole. Now he was trapped in a web of spinach-related lies.

"Fine. I'll take it."

At Jason's, the vibe was exactly what Leo dreaded—too-loud music, red cups everywhere, people performing versions of themselves. Maya spotted him immediately, dragging him into a conversation about summer plans.

"So are you trying out for travel baseball?" someone asked.

"Uh, not really feeling it anymore?"

"Dude, you're like, the best player we have. Don't be weird."

Buster (who'd somehow escaped the house and followed Leo there??) chose that moment to bound into the backyard, straight toward the spinach dip that Leo had abandoned on a patio table.

"BUSTER NO—"

The dog devoured the entire dip in three enthusiastic gulps as everyone watched. Someone started laughing. Then someone else. Soon the whole party was losing it.

Maya wiped tears from her eyes. "That was literally the most Leo thing that's ever happened."

Leo stood there, spinach-covered dog at his feet, fake persona shattered, everyone laughing—and for the first time in weeks, he actually felt real.

"Yeah," he said, starting to smile. "Yeah, it kinda was."

Maybe this version of himself wasn't so bad after all. Messy, unexpected, definitely not perfect—but actual. And wasn't that the whole point?