The Green Between My Teeth

The baseball cap was my armor. Pulled low, it created a shadow where I could hide, which was exactly what I needed when Jake Miller and his varsity jacket crew walked by the bleachers. I pulled the brim down even lower and focused intensely on my spinach and feta wrap from the concession stand.

"Yo, nice hat, weirdo."

I didn't look up. I just took another bite of my wrap, which was a mistake, because apparently spinach has magical properties that make it want to escape your mouth and live freely between your front teeth forever.

The first pitch flew past. Strike one. The crowd groaned.

I was busy running through my mental checklist of social failures when I heard someone sit beside me. Not Jake, thank god. It was Maya, from my AP Lit class. Maya with the cool ripped tights and drawings on her Converse. Maya who I'd said approximately four words to all semester.

"That game," she said, nodding toward the field. "It's like watching paint dry, but with more spitting."

I almost laughed. Then I remembered the spinach situation. I clamped my mouth shut and nodded, making what I hoped was a neutral expression.

"What's with the hat?" she asked. "You know you're missing, like, everything happening on the field, right?"

I shrugged. My face was burning. I could feel the spinach like it was its own organism, waving hello to the world.

Maya leaned closer. "You have something in your—"

I bolted. I was running up the bleacher steps before she could finish, moving with an athleticism I'd never demonstrated in actual gym class. I heard her call after me, but I didn't stop until I reached the bathroom, where I spent three minutes aggressively picking at my teeth with my finger.

When I finally looked in the mirror, there was nothing there. I'd been paranoid the whole time.

The worst part? When I finally returned to my seat, Maya was gone. But on the spot where she'd sat, there was a small folded piece of paper.

I opened it. It was a sketch of me—hat pulled down, mid-chew—drawn in blue ballpoint pen. Underneath, she'd written: *You looked better when you weren't hiding.*

I took off the hat.

The baseball game was still boring. Jake Miller was still annoying. But for the first time all afternoon, I could actually see the field.