The Green Smoothie Oracle

Maya's morning ritual looked like something out of a witch's brew. The blender screamed as she dumped in a handful of spinach, two vitamin gummies (because gummies don't count as supplements, they count as candy), and exactly sixteen ounces of water. Her mom swore this green sludge was the secret to peak performance. Maya swore it tasted like wet lawn clippings.

"You going to drink that pond water or marry it?" Jordan leaned against Maya's locker, spinning a baseball on his finger like it was an extension of his hand. "Tryouts start in twenty. You nervous?"

Maya swallowed the spinach monstrosity in onegulp, fighting back her gag reflex. "Not nervous. Just prepared."

"Yeah? Prepared for what? Running for the hills when coach says suicide sprints?"

She rolled her eyes. Jordan had been flirting with her since freshman year, and Maya had spent approximately zero point three seconds deciding if she liked him back. He was gorgeous—tall, with those stupid perfect eyelashes that looked fake but weren't—and annoying. The worst combination.

"I'm trying out for pitcher, Jordan. Not cross-country."

"Whatever." He grinned, that lopsided thing that made her stomach do something embarrassing. "Just don't throw the ball at my face again. Once was enough."

"It grazed your cheek!"

"I still have a bruise!"

Maya didn't mention she'd been aiming for his head that day last spring. He'd bet ten bucks she couldn't make the team, and she'd spent all summer practicing in her backyard until her shoulder burned and her throwing arm felt like it might detach. The spinach smoothies were new—her mom's idea after Maya admitted she was terrified of humiliating herself.

"What's in the magic potion anyway?" Jordan asked, actually curious now. "Looks like something you'd serve a rabbit."

"Spinach," Maya said, wiping green slime from her lip. "And vitamins. And water. Basically, everything you should be consuming instead of those energy drinks that taste like battery acid."

"Battery acid is delicious."

"You're impossible."

"You love it."

Something shifted between them, electric and terrifying. Maya's heart kicked up, suddenly running a marathon against her ribs. She'd been so focused on proving herself at baseball, she hadn't noticed the way Jordan looked at her now—really looked at her, like she was someone worth seeing.

The coach blew his whistle. A piercing sound that sliced through Maya's overthinking.

"Showtime," Jordan said, bumping her shoulder with his. "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you when we face off at the plate."

"In your dreams, Jordan."

"Every night, Maya."

He winked—actually winked—and jogged onto the field. Maya stood there for a second, her hand pressed to her chest, feeling ridiculous and alive and terrified all at once. Then she grabbed her glove and followed him out onto the diamond, her green smoothie somehow sitting lighter in her stomach than it ever had before.

Maybe her mom was onto something with those potions after all.