The Kale Incident

My life was officially over. Mom had decided we were going 'whole foods plant-based' which translated to: my lunchbox smelled like a garden and nobody wanted to sit with me.

"Eat your spinach, Maya," she'd said that morning, sliding me a Tupperware container that looked suspiciously like lawn clippings. "It's literally the most nutrient-dense food on earth."

"Literally nothing you just said makes me want to eat this," I'd muttered, but she was already posting about it on her Instagram story.

Now I was sitting at lunch, staring at my salad, while Sophia Brooks—capital S, capital B, capital Everything—laughed three tables away. Her friends were perfect. Their lunches were definitely not anything green.

"What is THAT?" said Leo, sliding onto the bench across from me. Not Sophia. Just Leo, who I'd been sort-of friends with since seventh grade but who mostly existed in my periphery.

"My social suicide," I said.

He poked at my container. "Is that... spinach?"

"Don't say it too loud. People will think I'm a health influencer or something."

Leo laughed, which was annoying because his laugh was actually cute. Stop, Maya. He's Leo. The guy who spilled chocolate milk on your white jeans in eighth grade and never apologized.

"My mom's making me take these vitamins now," he said, pulling a bottle from his backpack. "She says I'm pale."

"You're not pale, you're just Irish."

"She thinks I have a deficiency. Or scurvy. I don't know, she saw something on TikTok."

We looked at each other. The absolute state of our lives.

"Wanna trade?" I asked, gesturing to my spinach. "You get nutrients, I get to not die of embarrassment."

He considered this. "Deal. But you have to actually eat—"

"MAYA."

Sophia Brooks was standing at the end of our table. Actual Sophia, with her highlighter-bright smile and perfect skin and the way she made everything look effortless.

"Your Instagram post," she said, pulling out her phone. "The one about, like, intuitive eating and self-love and stuff? It actually got me through some stuff this week."

I blinked. "What?"

"Your account? It's so real. I mean, everyone's all aesthetic-this and curated-that, but you're just... honest." She smiled. "We're doing a group thing for the mental health assembly next month. You should come."

She walked away before I could respond.

Leo stared at me. "Did that just happen?"

"I think so?"

"You have an Instagram?"

"Yeah, I post about—" I paused. "About how my mom forces me to eat healthy and I hate it but I'm trying to love myself anyway."

Leo opened my Tupperware and took a forkful of spinach. "Well," he said, chewing thoughtfully. "At least it's working."

I took one of his vitamins and swallowed it dry. "Don't get used to this trade."

"Too late," he grinned. "You're stuck with me now."