The Cafeteria Incident

I looked like a total zombie. Third week of freshman year and I was already running on empty—thanks to cross-country practice, AP Euro homework, and my mom's brilliant idea to sign me up for SAT prep because "it's never too early."

"Dude, you good?" Marcus asked, sliding his tray across the cafeteria table. My best friend since kindergarten, still somehow energetic at 12:47 PM.

"I'm in physical pain," I muttered, poking at my lunch.

So here's the thing about high school: you have approximately one chance to not embarrass yourself forever. And today was that day for me, because I'd finally gathered the courage to ask Gia to homecoming. Gia, with the perfect hair and the laugh that made my stomach do things I didn't want to analyze in the middle of third period.

But first, I had to survive lunch.

My mom had packed my usual: a turkey sandwich, an apple, and a Tupperware container of raw spinach because apparently her son was a rabbit now. I'd been trying to eat healthier because I read somewhere it helped with energy. Spoiler: it doesn't work immediately.

I opened the container, and of course—OF COURSE—my hand slipped. The spinach went everywhere. Like, everywhere. Green leaves raining down on the table, my lap, the floor beside me. A guy at the next table actually stopped mid-conversation to witness my personal tragedy.

"That's bull," Marcus said, barely suppressing laughter. "That's actual bull."

Tanner, who sat two tables away with his lacrosse teammates, pointed. "Yo, looks like someone's trying to photosynthesis!" His friends cracked up. High school humor was groundbreaking stuff.

I started frantically brushing spinach off my jeans when someone tapped my shoulder.

Gia.

"Hey," she said. Then she looked at the mess. "Oh no. Are you okay?"

My brain short-circuited. "I'm photosynthesis-ing."

She laughed. Not the mean kind. The genuine kind that made her nose crinkle. "Here." She handed me a napkin. "I'm Gia, by the way."

"Leo. I mean, I know you're Gia. I've been in your bio class since September."

"I know who you are, Leo," she said, and something about the way she said it made my zombie-morning feel significantly less tragic. "You sit two rows behind me. You always answer when Mr. Henderson asks about mitochondria."

Marcus coughed. "Oh he knows who you are, alright."

Gia ignored him, smiling at me. "So, homecoming?"

Wait, what.

"Is there a... question coming?" she added.

"Yes," I said, then immediately remembered I was covered in spinach. "I mean, I was going to ask you, but I'm currently having a salad incident, and—"

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'll go with you."

The bell rang. As I gathered my backpack, still finding spinach leaves in unexpected places, I caught Marcus's eye. He gave me a thumbs-up.

Maybe tomorrow I wouldn't feel like such a zombie. Or maybe I would. But at least I'd be a zombie with a homecoming date.