The Social Media Spy

I'd become a digital **spy**, stalking Mia's Instagram until 2 AM every night. Three months ago, we'd been best friends since kindergarten, practically sisters who finished each other's sentences. Then freshman year hit, and Mia discovered eyeliner, the varsity cheer squad, and a whole new vocabulary that didn't include me.

Now I was lurking behind my phone screen, watching her live a life where I no longer existed.

"You're doing it again," my brother Josh said from the doorway, scrolling on his own phone. "It's creepy, Maya. Also, Coach is gonna kill you if you're late for **running** club again."

I groaned and shoved my phone under my pillow. Cross-country was the only thing keeping me sane these days — just me, the trail, and the blessed absence of social hierarchies. That and the fact that Josh, against all teenage logic, had somehow become my person.

Practice was brutal. Coach Miller had us doing intervals in the humidity, my lungs screaming, legs heavy like lead. By the time we finished, I could barely stand.

"Solid work today," said Tyler Chen, suddenly beside me. Tyler, who was somehow on varsity track as a sophomore and had those annoying dimples that made everyone weak. "You're getting faster."

"Thanks," I managed, trying not to die. My face felt suspiciously warm.

"Hey, some of us are grabbing smoothies at The Green Spot. You coming?"

My brain short-circuited. Tyler Chen was inviting me somewhere? Tyler Chen, who sat at Mia's lunch table?

"Sure," I said, like a normal functioning human being and not someone whose social life had recently flatlined.

At the smoothie place, I ordered something green and healthy because Tyler was watching. When I took my first sip, something felt... wrong. My tongue detected something distinctly leafy and wrong.

"Wait," Tyler said, eyes going wide. "You've got—"

I bolted to the bathroom. **Spinach**, like a massive, emerald forest, was wedged between my front teeth. I wanted to dissolve into the tile floor.

But when I came out, Tyler didn't look annoyed. He was laughing.

"Freshman year," he said, "I had braces and got popcorn stuck in them during a presentation. In front of everyone."

"Seriously?"

"Swear on my life." He grinned. "Also, Mia's been asking about you. Like, a lot."

The next day, Mia found me before first period. She looked different without the perfect eyeliner, almost like the girl I'd grown up with.

"I miss you," she said simply.

"I miss you too."

"Also," she added, "I heard about the spinach incident. Tyler texted me. He said it was actually kind of adorable."

I covered my face with my hands. "I'm never leaving my house again."

Mia laughed, and it sounded like old times. "Too bad. We've got years to survive. Together."

That night, for the first time in months, I didn't stalk Mia's social media. I didn't have to. Some things don't need to be spied on from afar — sometimes they just need patience, and maybe a little spinach-induced humility, to find their way back to you.