The Green Between My Teeth

I shouldn't have eaten that spinach wrap before tryouts. Seriously, who eats spinach before a big social event? Apparently me, because I'm a genius like that.

Standing at the edge of the padel court, my stomach did backflips. Everyone else looked like they belonged in a sports commercial — coordinated, confident, definitely not sweating through their cheapest Target shirt. Meanwhile, I was just hoping my phone wouldn't slide out of my pocket and crack on the concrete.

"You're up, new girl!" Someone called from across the court. Great. They'd already labeled me.

I stepped onto the court, my sneakers squeaking. Padel was supposed to be easier than tennis, something chill and social. But the ball machine fired a projectile at my face, and suddenly I understood why people called it "tennis with anxiety."

I missed. Obviously. The ball bounced off my racket frame and hit the fence.

"Nice form!" This cute guy yelled. Was he being sarcastic? My face burned hotter than the Arizona sun I'd moved here from three months ago.

Then the worst thing happened. I laughed at my own failure, and this girl Jessica — perfect hair, perfect backhand, probably perfect life — just stared at me.

"You have something in your teeth," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The spinach. A giant green leaf, wedged between my front teeth like a flag of social surrender.

My brain short-circuited. I needed water, like, right now. I sprinted to the fountain, gargled like a maniac, and checked my reflection in my phone camera. Gone.

When I returned, Jessica was waiting.

"I'm sorry," she said, genuinely. "That was mean of me. I'm nervous too."

We ended up playing together. She couldn't serve to save her life. I couldn't return anything. We lost every match, but we laughed so hard my abs hurt.

Sometimes the most embarrassing moments become the best ones. And sometimes spinach is just spinach — until it's not.