The Art of Spying on Ghosts

Maya pressed her thumb against the glass screen, zooming in on the photo.

Fitness tracker? Yes.

She'd become one of them - the wellness girls who posted motivational quotes at 6am and drank green juice that looked like pond water. Three months ago, Lena would've rather died than be caught with a vitamin gummy, let alone the massive supplements she was posing with now.

"Maya, you good?" Jordan elbowed her in AP Bio. "You look like a zombie."

"Not sleeping," Maya muttered. Which was technically true. Between social studies homework and her nightly stalking sessions - spy was too strong a word, she preferred 'keeping tabs' - she was running on fumes and vanilla latte.

That's when she found it: Lena's private Spotify playlist. Not the public one filled with wellness podcasts and acoustic covers. This one was hidden, unlisted, and its name hit Maya like a punch to the gut: *body dysmorphia hell.*

The vitamins weren't wellness culture. They were armor.

The next afternoon, Maya waited by the oak tree where Lena always walked Barnaby - her family's golden retriever, the most good-natured dog on earth.

"I found your playlist," Maya said when Lena came into view.

Lena froze. Barnaby kept trotting, then sat and tilted his head, like even the dog knew something was about to go down.

"You were SPYING on me?" Lena's voice cracked. "That's actually pathetic."

"You stopped texting back!" Maya shot back. "You changed your username, blocked me on Insta - what was I supposed to do?"

"I was going through something!"

"So instead of telling your best friend, you just... what? Vanished?"

They stood there, Lena clutching Barnaby's leash like it could anchor her. Finally, the words tumbled out - everything. The panic attacks before swim meets. The mirror she'd covered with a poster because she couldn't look at herself anymore. The vitamins because some TikToker said they'd help her 'glow from within' and she was desperate to feel okay in her own skin.

"I felt like a zombie," Lena whispered. "Just going through motions. And I thought you'd judge me for not being confident like I used to be."

"You're my person," Maya said. "I don't care if you're confident or falling apart. I just want to be there."

Barnaby chose that moment to sneeze, shake his whole body, and trot over to lean his entire weight against Maya's legs. Her phone - her spy device, her weapon of mass distraction - slipped from her pocket and landed face-up on the sidewalk.

Neither picked it up.

"I brought extra gummies," Lena said quietly, pulling a bottle from her backpack. "The ones shaped like dinosaurs. I know you hate swallowing pills."

Maya smiled. It was the first genuine smile in months.

"Only if you tell me when you're spiraling next time."

"Deal."