The Green Protein Incident

Maya's fork pushed the **spinach** around her plate like she was conducting a sad vegetable orchestra. The cafeteria noise was overwhelming—laughter slamming against tables, the distinct *clack-clack* of trending TikTok dances being rehearsed in corners, someone practically yelling about how they were "living their best life." Maya was just trying to survive her first week at Northwood High without completely embarrassing herself.

"You gonna eat that, or interview it?" Chloe slid onto the bench across from her, dark curls bouncing, clutching a bottle of neon-orange liquid like it was a rare artifact. "This **vitamin** drink tastes like someone dissolved a Flintstones vitamin in Lake Michigan. Highly do not recommend."

Maya actually laughed. Chloe was like that—impossibly confident, wearing a jacket that definitely violated dress code with zero fear of consequences. Meanwhile, Maya had spent twenty minutes this morning deciding whether her outfit made her look like she was trying too hard or not trying enough.

"It's spinach," Maya said. "My mom's whole 'iron makes you strong' campaign. She's basically building a food **pyramid** of disappointment in my lunchbox every day."

Chloe snorted. "Classic. My parents just leave money on the counter and pray I don't survive on energy drinks and vending machine despair." She leaned in. "Anyway, I saw you in PE yesterday. You were actually decent at the mile run. Most people spend half the time dramatically dying against the gym wall."

Heat rose to Maya's cheeks. "I like **running**. It's… easier than talking to people?"

"Valid." Chloe's eyes lit up. "You should join cross country! We need actual humans who don't treat every practice like a social media opportunity. Plus, Coach Miller brings donuts on Fridays. It's a whole vibe."

The bell rang, and people scattered like someone had set off a chaos grenade. Chloe stood up, then turned back. "Seriously though, sit with us tomorrow. Not the popular table—that's like, emotional warfare. But my friends? We're the weirdos who actually laugh at each other's jokes. You'd fit."

Maya watched her walk away, feeling something shift in her chest—light, like she'd been carrying something she didn't know she could put down. The spinach still sat there, mocking her existence. But as she took a bite (mostly to prove a point to herself), she thought maybe high school wouldn't be completely terrible after all.

Sometimes the scariest things were the ones that turned out exactly like you'd hoped they would.