The Green Between My Teeth

I'd been cyber-stalking Chloe for three weeks straight. Every post, every story, every cryptic song lyric on her Spotify — I consumed it all like it was my job. Pathetic? Maybe. But when your best friend suddenly drops you without explanation, you get desperate.

"You're literally obsessing," Marcus said, sliding into the cafeteria booth opposite me. He pushed his tray forward — a sad-looking salad with wilted spinach that looked like it had seen better days. "She's not worth it."

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. "Easy for you to say. You didn't get ghosted by your literal ride-or-die since seventh grade."

The truth was, Chloe and I had been inseparable until two months ago. Then came the vague excuses. The "too busy" texts. The left-me-on-read messages that made me stare at my phone until my eyes burned.

"Just ask her," Marcus said, stabbing at his spinach with unnecessary violence. "Confront her. Like a normal person."

"I can't just—" I started, but then I saw her.

Chloe walked through the cafeteria doors like she owned the place, new friends laughing at something she said. Her hair was different now — shorter, darker — but her smile was the same one that had gotten us through braces and bad haircuts and first periods.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I stood up and marched over. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Chloe."

She froze. The smile slipped. "Hey... Maya."

"What happened?" I demanded, voice shaking. "One day we're planning our matching tattoos, and the next you're practically a stranger. Did I do something?"

Chloe's face crumpled. "No, God, Maya. I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I saw your story," she whispered. "The one where you went through my phone when I was sleeping at your house. Last spring."

The blood drained from my face. "That was — that was a joke. I wasn't actually—"

"You screenshotted my texts with Jordan and posted them for your friends to laugh at." She looked at me with those same eyes I'd trusted with everything. "I can't trust someone who would spy on me like that."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Because she was right. It had seemed harmless at the time — just teenage drama, just content for my story. But I'd violated her.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I really am."

Chloe nodded once, solemn. "I know. But some things you can't unfuck up."

She walked away, and I stood there in the middle of the cafeteria, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet.

Marcus appeared at my elbow. "That looked intense."

"I ruined it," I said, blinking back tears. "I literally ruined the best thing I had because I thought I was being funny."

He looked at me, then back at his abandoned spinach. "Want a leaf? It's gross but it's good for you. Like character development."

I laughed through the stupid tears building in my throat. "You're the worst, Marcus."

"But I'm here." He slid the salad toward me. "Unlike some people."

I took a piece of spinach. It tasted like regret and growth and all the messy, ugly parts of growing up.

"Yeah," I said. "You are."

Maybe I hadn't lost everything. Sometimes the people who stick around when you're at your worst? They're the ones who actually matter.