The Green Smoothie Manifesto

Maya stared at the cafeteria's social pyramid like it was an ancient monument she'd never conquer. At the base: the theater kids, the band geeks, people who actually wore their IDs around their necks. At the apex: Brooke and her squad, whose highlight game was so strong they practically emitted their own light.

"You gonna drink that or just meditate on it?" asked Sam, sliding into the seat across from her.

Maya looked down at her mother's latest experiment: a sludge-green smoothie containing what felt like the entire produce section. Spinach, kale, something that tasted suspiciously like lawn clippings. "My mom's new phase. She says I need more vitamin D or I'll wither away like a neglected houseplant."

"Brooke's coming," Sam whispered, suddenly fascinated by her own tray.

Sure enough, The Pyramid herself was approaching, flanked by two members of the apex guard. Maya's stomach did that thing where it forgot how to be an organ. Brooke stopped at their table, tilting her head.

"My dad's a photographer," Brooke said, apropos of nothing. "He says real beauty has texture. Messiness." She gestured at Maya's smoothie. "That looks... real."

Then she was gone, leaving Maya and Sam staring at each other like Brooke had just revealed she secretly lived in a bunker.

The next day, Maya found a folded note in her locker. Inside: a polaroid of her dad's old teddy bear—eaten half to death by a dog when she was seven, stitched back up with neon thread. The caption read: *bear survivor.*

No signature. But she recognized Brooke's handwriting from chemistry lab partners last semester.

"She thinks your reconstructed bear is aesthetic," Sam said when Maya showed her the photo in the library. "That's... weirdly heartwarming?"

That afternoon, for the first time since elementary school, Maya sat at a different table. The smoothie still tasted like vegetation, but Sam was there, and so was Brooke, and they were discussing whether taxidermy was cool or creepy.

"My mom would freak," Maya said. "She's already convinced I'm one vitamin deficiency away from total collapse."

"Good," Brooke said, grinning. "Plenty of material for your mom's next smoothie phase."

The pyramid hadn't crumbled, exactly. But maybe, Maya thought, watching Sam accidentally snort chocolate milk out her nose, some things were better than being at the top.