The Dog Who Knew Everything

My life peaked at age seven, when I found a decomposed bird carcass behind the shed. That was the last time I felt cool. Now, as a sophomore whose social anxiety basically requires its own ZIP code, I spend most Friday nights exactly like this: sprawled on the couch with Buster—my dog, who judging by his expression would literally rather be doing anything else—watching cable channels that haven't been relevant since 2004.

"You're judging me," I tell him. He sighs, that long dramatic exhale that communicates everything. "You're right. I'm pathetic."

Then my phone dings. Maya posted photos from Jordan's party. I wasn't invited—shocker—but I'd been lowkey cyber-stalking the event anyway. That's when I saw it: photo #47, some rando named Tyler, and in his teeth? A massive piece of spinach. Like, cartoonishly obvious. The kind of situation that could only end in social death, and nobody had warned him.

I zoomed in, horrified and mesmerized. This was social currency. The kind of ammo that made or reputations in tenth grade. I hesitated for approximately three seconds before DMing him.

"Hey, random question but did nobody tell you about the spinach situation in pic 47? Asking as someone who's been there and it's not cute lol"

He responded instantly. "OH MY GOD. Thank you. I'm literally never showing my face again."

"Nah," I typed back. "Own it. Tell everyone you were testing a new aesthetic. Challenging beauty standards. One leaf at a time."

He laughed (I could tell by the typing speed). We ended up talking until 3 AM. About everything. How we both felt like spies in our own lives, observing normal people from behind glass. How weird it is that everyone else seems to have received the manual on Being A Regular Human while we were off somewhere else.

The next day at school, Tyler sought me out. "The Spinach Warrior," he announced to his whole lunch table. "This person's got my back."

They invited me to sit with them.

Later, Buster thumped his tail against my leg as I recounted everything. He'd known all along. The dog always knows.