The Bear in the Room

I walked into first period feeling like actual zombie — three hours of sleep, two energy drinks, zero brain cells. The fluorescent lights hummed, attacking my retinas. Classic Monday vibes.

"Dude," Marcus whispered, sliding into the desk beside me. "You look dead."

"Thanks," I muttered, pulling my hood up. "Real solid friendship right there."

Marcus was the kind of friend who'd roast you but also take a bullet for you. We'd been tight since seventh grade, back when I thought cargo shorts were a personality trait and he hadn't discovered hair gel.

"Check your teeth," he said, grimacing.

My stomach dropped. I pulled out my phone, camera on. Yupp. Giant, vibrant piece of spinach wedged between my front teeth, like a tiny green flag announcing my humiliation to the world.

"Bro," I hissed. "You couldn't tell me sooner?"

"I tried! You were busy staring at Chloe."

Chloe Martinez, sitting two rows ahead. Her hair looked perfect. Mine looked like I'd been raised by wolves. Between the spinach situation and the zombie aesthetic, my chances were officially negative.

Then Mr. Henderson announced the project. "You'll work in pairs. Create something meaningful about identity."

Chloe turned around. Our eyes met. She smiled. I smiled back, with the spinach still there, because the universe hated me.

"Hey," she said, walking over after class. "Want to be partners?"

My brain short-circuited. "Uh — yeah. Totally."

"Cool." She grinned. "My uncle's a taxidermist. He has this bear in his garage. Could we photograph it? Like, about how we're all stuffing ourselves into these boxes?"

I stared at her, confused and impressed. "That's... actually genius."

"Right?" She laughed, and my chest did this embarrassing flutter thing. "Maybe we're all just zombies trying to pass as alive."

Marcus appeared behind her, giving me a look. Subtle bro communication: YOU'RE WELCOME.

"I'm in," I said, finally remembering to clean my teeth. "But first, I need to fix my life."

Chloe didn't even notice the spinach. Sometimes the things that feel huge to you don't matter to anyone else. That's the thing about growing up — you spend half your time worrying about stuff nobody else sees, while the other half is just showing up and trying to pass as human.

Marcus was already walking away, but not before fist-bumping me. Good friends don't let you walk around with spinach in your teeth. Great friends help you talk to your crush without making it weird.

Okay, mostly without making it weird.