The Green Between My Teeth

Maya stood at the concession stand, heart hammering against her ribs like a **baseball** in a pitching machine. This was it—her first high school social event since transferring to Northwood three weeks ago. The baseball game had seemed like the perfect low-pressure way to finally make friends. Just clap when everyone clapped. Cheer when everyone cheered. Easy.

Until Tyler from her AP Chem class had motioned for her to come sit with him and his friends in the student section.

She'd ordered something to look busy, something that said 'cool, casual teen who totally belonged here.' Which is how she ended up with a mouthful of **spinach** and artichoke dip on a pretzel bun. A choice she immediately questioned when she caught her reflection in the concession stand window—a massive, emerald-green chunk wedged between her front teeth.

Are you kidding me right now?

She'd been running on four hours of sleep all week, fueled entirely by anxiety and iced coffee. She felt like a **zombie** from the binge-watching marathon her friends had done last weekend, shambling through conversations and missing every social cue. Now this.

Maya frantically dug through her crossbody bag with one hand while clutching the half-eaten pretzel with the other. No napkins. No mirror. Her phone battery had died twenty minutes ago. She considered texting Sarah, but her new friend had already disappeared into the crowd with some juniors from the volleyball team.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat.

She turned slowly, preparing for the worst. Maybe Tyler would see the spinach. Maybe he'd laugh. Maybe he'd pretend not to notice but still notice, and that would be the thing everyone remembered about the new girl.

'You got a little...' Tyler gestured to his own teeth, looking simultaneously horrified and endeared. 'Sorry, that was weird. I just—didn't want you to walk around like that all night.'

Maya's face burned. 'I don't suppose you have a napkin?'

'Two steps ahead of you.' He produced a crumpled Dunkin' napkin from his pocket. 'My mom insists I carry them. Says I'm a mess. She's not wrong.'

As she wiped away the offending spinach, Tyler added, 'My little sister had a whole leaf stuck in her braces at Thanksgiving last year. Took, like, forty photos before anyone told her. Family tradition at this point.'

Maya laughed, and something in her chest loosened. 'Thanks for not letting me be that girl.'

'No way.' Tyler grinned. 'Anyway, we saved you a seat. Bottom of the ninth, tied game. You coming?'