The Lucky Hat Disaster

Marcus adjusted his lucky fedora for the hundredth time, trying to look casual while leaning against the gym wall. The hat was supposed to be his confidence booster at homecoming—his brother's old wool blend that made him feel mysterious instead of just the new kid who'd transferred mid-semester.

Then he saw Jasmine across the gym, laughing with her friends, and his palms started sweating. He'd been crushing on her since week one, when she'd helped him find his locker and pretended not to notice his terrible combover.

"Yo Marcus!" Derek called from the basketball court. "You gonna sit there all night or actually dance?"

"I'm observing," Marcus shot back, but his voice cracked. Smooth. Real smooth.

His stomach lurched—probably from that spinach and feta wrap his mom had insisted he eat before coming. "You need your greens, Marcus," she'd said, like that would somehow prepare him for social combat.

Jasmine started walking toward him, and Marcus panicked. Should he smile? Look away? Act cool? He settled for what he hoped was a casual lean against the wall, but his fedora slid down over his eyes.

"Nice hat," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Marcus pushed the hat up, feeling his face heat. "Thanks. It's lucky."

"Lucky?" Jasmine leaned against the wall beside him. "For what?"

"For... you know. Life stuff."

She laughed, and it was this genuine sound that made his chest feel weird. "You're terrible at this."

"At what?"

"At being smooth." She reached up and tugged his hat brim. "But it's kinda cute."

Marcus froze. Was this happening? Was Jasmine calling him cute? He opened his mouth to say something—anything—cool, but what came out was, "I have spinach in my teeth, don't I?"

"Actually?" Jasmine squinted at him. "Yeah, a little. Right there." She pointed.

"And you were just gonna let me walk around like that?"

"I was gonna see if you'd notice. You know, before you tried to impress anyone." She handed him a mirror from her purse—seriously, who carried a mirror to homecoming?

Marcus picked the spinach out while Jasmine watched, somehow not making it feel humiliating. When he looked up, she was still there, still smiling.

"You know," she said, "my dad's always talking about this bull he once rode at the county fair. Said he hung on for eight seconds before getting thrown off. But he got back on."

"Is this a metaphor?"

"Maybe." She checked her phone. "Wanna get out of here? There's a food truck outside. And you could probably use something to wash down that spinach taste."

Marcus adjusted his lucky hat, finally feeling it might actually work. "Yeah. I'd like that."