The Dog Who Saved Friday Night

Maya's Friday nights were supposed to be epic, not stuck working the salad bar at FoodMax while her friends posted Snapchat stories from parties she wasn't invited to. But here she was, arranging spinach leaves into aesthetic little piles because her mom said she needed to "build character" and her college fund wasn't going to pay for itself.

"Need help finding anything?" she asked, not really caring, as some guy in a varsity jacket stared blankly at the organic greens.

"Just looking for the good stuff," he said, and Maya rolled her eyes. Boys were so basic.

Then her phone buzzed. CHEER TRYOUTS TOMORROW. WEAR YOUR UNIFORM.

Maya's stomach dropped. She'd made varsity cheer as a sophomore, a total flex, but the uniform from last year didn't fit anymore. Her mom had been obsessing over her "healthy eating" since spring, buying nothing but spinach and kale and stuff Maya couldn't even pronounce. It wasn't an eating disorder or whatever, it was just... stress. Maya's dad had lost his job three months ago, and suddenly everything was about "cutting back" and "making smart choices."

The front doors slid open. Three girls from cheer squad walked in, led by Brittany, whose Instagram stories were basically masterclasses in making other people feel lame.

"Oh hey, Maya!" Brittany's voice was fake-bright. "Working hard or hardly working?"

Maya forced a smile. "Both, honestly."

Then her phone started blasting her ringtone—the SpongeBob theme, because her brother had changed it as a "joke"—and she frantically tried to silence it. But it kept ringing.

"That's so... unique," Brittany said, and her friends giggled.

Maya's face burned. She was literally going to die of embarrassment right there next to the organic arugula.

That's when a dog—a huge, droopy-eyed chocolate lab—wandered in through the automatic doors, dragging a leash behind him. He made a beeline for Maya, tail going crazy like she was his long-lost best friend.

"Bear!" Some guy came running in after him. "I am so sorry, he's supposed to be staying in the car—"

"Bear's fine," Maya said, scratching the dog behind the ears. He leaned into her like a giant, furry validation machine.

"I'm Tyler," the guy said. "That's Bear, obviously. He's a rescue."

Bear sat down next to Maya like he was claiming her. Her phone finally stopped ringing, and for some reason, Brittany and her friends were staring.

"Is that... is that a bear?" one of them asked.

"No," Tyler laughed. "His name is Bear. He's a dog."

"He's gorgeous," Brittany admitted, actually impressed.

The dog—Bear—chose that moment to sneeze directly onto Brittany's pristine white sneakers.

The girls gasped. Tyler's face went red. Maya burst out laughing.

"I'm so sorry," Tyler started, but Maya was already grabbing paper towels.

"It's fine," she said, still laughing. "Honestly? It's kind of iconic."

Britney left with her friends, sneakers definitely ruined, but somehow the social hierarchy had shifted. Maya was the girl who laughed when life got messy, who pet dogs named Bear like they were regulars, who didn't even care that she was working Friday night in a dumb green apron.

"Hey," Tyler said, as Bear continued to act like Maya was his person. "You want to grab food after your shift? There's this place—"

"As long as they don't serve spinach," Maya said, "I'm in."

She clocked out at eight with Tyler's number in her phone and the weirdest, most random feeling that maybe her Friday nights were about to get way more interesting. Bear, apparently, had excellent taste in humans.