The Mission

Maya's mission was clear: infiltrate the cafeteria, locate target (Tyler from pre-calc), and casually sit within range. Operation: Sit Near Tyler Without Being Weird.

The problem was, Maya's palms were already sweating. Like, actually dripping. She wiped them on her jeans—her third attempt since leaving homeroom—and adjusted her backpack straps. Being a sixteen-year-old girl with a crush should not require this much tactical planning, yet here she was, basically a spy at this point. Jordan had caught her lurking behind the library shelves yesterday, watching Tyler's lacrosse practice through the window.

"You're not a ninja," Jordan had said. "You're just standing there."

"I'm gathering intel," she'd shot back, which was exactly the kind of thing someone who was NOT a spy would say.

Now, in the cafeteria, disaster struck. Literally the moment Maya spotted Tyler at his usual table, laughing with that stupid cute head tilt he did, she remembered: the spinach. The massive, horrific chunk of emerald green spinach lodged between her front teeth, visible from space, probably glowing like a radioactive emergency beacon.

Her mom's "eat more vegetables" phase had been going on for three weeks. Maya had eaten spinach and feta wrap for breakfast. And now she was about to approach her crush looking like she'd been chewing on a small forest.

"Hey Maya!" Tyler looked up and waved her over.

Her brain short-circuited. She ducked behind a salad bar, pressing her back against the sneeze guard like she'd just dodged gunfire. This was it. This was how she died—social death, maximum humiliation, catastrophic failure.

"Dude," Jordan appeared beside her, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"I can't go over there." Maya gestured wildly at her own mouth. "Spinach incident. Code red. Abort mission."

Jordan stared at her for three solid seconds. Then: "There's nothing in your teeth. I checked yesterday when you were stressing about this. You're good."

Maya掏出 her phone camera, heart hammering. Jordan was right. No spinach. She'd spent twenty minutes in the bathroom mirror before school for nothing.

"You're overthinking it," Jordan said, shoving her shoulder. "Just go sit down. He literally invited you."

So Maya did. And when Tyler smiled and said, "Hey, saved you a seat," her palms were still sweating, her heart was doing something illegal, and maybe she wasn't exactly cool. But she was sitting there. Sometimes that was enough.