The Green-Toothed Riddle

Maya's fingers trembled as she stared at her reflection in the school bathroom mirror. A bright green wedge of **spinach** was wedged between her front teeth—like a neon sign announcing her humiliation to the entire sophomore class.

"Bruh, you cannot go to third period like that," said Jordan, leaning against the row of sinks while aggressively applying lip gloss. "That's literally social suicide."

Maya groaned. She'd had a breakfast spinach wrap because Coach told the cross country team to "eat more iron" or whatever. Now she was paying the price. And to make matters worse, her usually sleek runner's **hair** had exploded into a frizzy disaster thanks to the humidity.

The day had already been a mess. In English, Ms. Patel made them analyze the **Sphinx**'s riddle from Oedipus, and Maya blanked when called on. Standing there while everyone waited for her to say something—anything—had been excruciating. The silence stretched until someone coughed.

Now she had third period gym, which meant actual **running** in front of people while looking like this.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold **water** on her face, trying to reset. Jordan handed her a hair tie without being asked.

"You good?" Jordan asked, softer now.

"Yeah," Maya lied, staring at her dripping reflection. "Just... sometimes I feel like everyone else got the manual on how to be a person, and I'm over here guessing."

Jordan laughed. "Girl, same. We're all just figuring it out. Some of us are better at hiding it."

Maya scraped the spinach from her teeth, smoothed her hair into a messy bun, and actually looked at herself—not picking apart flaws, just seeing a fifteen-year-old doing her best. The riddle wasn't about walking on three legs or four legs. It was about how you kept going even when you felt ridiculous.

"Thanks," Maya said, and they walked out together.

The bell rang. Maya took a breath and started running toward whatever came next.