The Outfield Infiltration

Maya adjusted her cap—backward, obviously, because that's how the cool kids wore them—and scanned the baseball stadium. This was it: Operation Crush Reconnaissance. Her best friend Chloe had appointed her as the designated spy, tasked with reporting back on whether Tyler, the varsity pitcher, had a girlfriend. The stakes? Extremely high. Maya's social life depended on it.

She'd spent forty minutes on her hair and another twenty convincing her mom to let her "study at the library" instead of attending their weekly family dinner. Which meant she hadn't eaten. Her stomach growled loud enough that the couple in front of her actually turned around.

"Sorry," she whispered, face burning.

The concession stand called to her. Five minutes later, she was crushing it—a spinach and feta wrap that cost her entire week's allowance. She was taking her first triumphant bite when someone called her name.

"Maya?"

She froze. There was Tyler. Actual Tyler. Standing two feet away. Looking at her. With spinach. In her teeth. She could feel it, wedged between her front two teeth like a tiny green flag of shame.

"Hey," he said, and then—because the universe had a personal vendetta against her—he smiled. "You coming to the party after the game? Everyone's going."

"Yeah," she said, or tried to say. It came out more like "yerrgh" because she was currently trying to swallow an entire mouthful of spinach without chewing.

"Cool." He nodded at her wrap. "Spinach, huh? That's actually kinda badass. My mom's always trying to get me to eat healthier."

He thought she was badass. Tyler. The Tyler.

"Yeah," she managed, this time intelligibly. "Health is my whole entire thing."

"See you there, Spinach Girl." He winked. Actually winked.

Maya waited until he was gone to check her phone. Twelve texts from Chloe.

"WELL???"

"STATUS REPORT"

"ARE U ALIVE"

Maya grinned, her fingers flying across the screen. He thinks I'm badass. And I quote, 'Spinach Girl.' She hit send, then added: Also, I have spinach in my teeth. Like, a lot.

Chloe's response came instantly: "GIRL. That's not a bug. That's your BRAND."

Maybe spy work wasn't so bad after all.