The Green Metal Smile

Maya smoothed her frizzy curls in the bathroom mirror, third period Spanish looming like a doom clock. She'd spent forty-five minutes flat-ironing her hair that morning, but campus humidity had already declared war.

"You look fine," said Sierra, leaning against the sink while reapplying lip gloss. "Tyler's gonna notice you either way."

Tyler. The baseball captain with the perfect swing and the jawline that could cut glass. Maya had been planning her sit-next-to-him-at-lunch strategy since November.

"But what if he does notice me? Like, actually NOTICE me? With the spinach situation?" Maya gestured to her braces. Freshman year with metal mouth was basically a social death sentence, and she'd already survived two embarrassing food incidents.

Sierra shrugged. "Then you own it. Confidence is everything, babe."

The cafeteria smelled like tater tots and anxiety. Maya spotted Tyler immediately—he was sitting with his baseball team, laughing at something, wearing that varsity jacket like it was made of gold. Her heart did that stupid flutter thing.

She got her food: pizza (safest option), a chocolate milk, and because her mom had drilled the "eat your greens" mantra into her head since kindergarten, a small scoop of spinach from the salad bar. Responsible choices, or so she thought.

Maya made her move. She sat diagonally from Tyler, close enough to potentially make eye contact but far enough to play it cool. Sierra sat two tables away, giving her a thumbs-up.

Then it happened. Tyler actually looked over and smiled—like, DIRECTLY at her. Maya's brain short-circuited. She smiled back, wide and terrified.

"Hey," he said. "You're Maya, right? From English?"

She nodded, feeling dizzy with victory. He knew her name. This was it.

"Cool," he said. Then his eyes flickered to her mouth and weirdly away. "So, yeah, see you in English."

He turned back to his baseball friends. Maya's victory lasted exactly fourteen seconds.

She grabbed her phone to check her reflection in the camera. A massive, emerald-green piece of spinach was wedged directly in her front braces, glowing like a radioactive neon sign.

Sierra was already texting her: *at least you have his attention now*

Maya stared at her reflection, caught between wanting to disappear into the floor and laughing at the absolute absurdity. Then she did both—shrugged, wiped away the spinach, and kept eating. Whatever. At least she was memorable.