The Green in My Teeth

Marcus froze in front of his locker, the fluorescent bathroom light bouncing off the mirror. There it was—a bright green chunk of spinach wedged between his front teeth, mocking him. He'd been smiling at Kayla all through lunch, thinking he was being smooth with his new retainer and everything.

"No way," he groaned, scrubbing with his finger. "How long has that been there?"

The bathroom door swung open. Ryan, the varsity baseball pitcher, leaned against the doorframe with his signature grin. "Yo, Marcus, you coming to practice? Coach is gonna flip if you're late again."

Marcus debated between hiding in the stall forever or facing reality. "Yeah. Just... gimme a sec."

"You good?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Worse," Marcus muttered. "I've been walking around with spinach in my teeth since fourth period."

Ryan burst out laughing. "Bro, that happens to everyone. Last week during my baseball showcase, I had cookie in my teeth while talking to college scouts. Still got recruited."

Marcus rinsed his mouth, suddenly grateful for Ryan's complete lack of filter. That was the thing about Ryan—nothing ever embarrassed him. Meanwhile, Marcus overthought everything, from how his hair looked to whether his running form during gym class made him look uncoordinated.

"You think Kayla noticed?" Marcus asked, hating how desperate he sounded.

Ryan shrugged. "Probably. But she was laughing at your jokes, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Then you're golden. Confidence is everything, my guy."

Marcus nodded, feeling slightly better. They headed out to the field, the afternoon sun already heating up the pavement. Practice went well—Marcus was improving his pitching, and Coach actually complimented his curveball for the first time.

On the walk home, Marcus took his usual shortcut through the wooded trail behind the subdivision. He was jamming to his playlist, thinking maybe tomorrow he'd actually sit by Kayla at lunch, when something moved between the trees.

A massive black bear emerged onto the path, no more than thirty feet away.

Marcus's brain short-circuited. Every documentary he'd ever watched, every warning sign he'd ever ignored—it all flooded his mind at once. The bear huffed, tilting its head.

Running. He should be running. But wasn't that exactly what you weren't supposed to do?

His legs decided for him. Marcus bolted, sprinting faster than he ever had in gym class, faster than he'd run from anything in his life. He didn't stop until he reached the street, chest heaving, legs trembling.

That night, Marcus brushed his teeth three times, checked his reflection twice, and replayed the bear encounter in his head. He'd survived the spinach incident, survived practice, and literally outran a bear.

If he could handle all that in one day, maybe tomorrow he'd finally work up the nerve to ask Kayla to the spring fling. Or at least sit next to her without panicking about his teeth.