The Sphinx at Spring Fling

Maya's third-period breakdown started with her hair. The humidity had turned her carefully straightened locks into a frizz explosion that looked like she'd stuck her fork in an electrical socket. By lunch, her social anxiety was already at an eleven.

"You look... artistic," said Jamal, sliding into the seat across from her. "It's a vibe."

Maya groaned. "It's a disaster. Corey's gonna take one look at me and bolt."

"Corey who has been staring at you from across the cafeteria for five minutes? That Corey?"

Maya's stomach did that thing where it forgot how to stomach. She'd been crushing on Corey since their shared earth science project back in September—the one where they'd bonded over both being completely clueless about rock cycles. Tonight was the Spring Fling dance. Her chance to finally make a move.

She grabbed her cafeteria tray. "I can't eat. I'm too nervous."

"You literally just said you were starving ten minutes ago," Jamal pointed out, because the best friends are the most annoying ones. "Finish your lunch, drama queen."

Maya took a bite of her spinach and feta wrap. Too late, she caught her reflection in the darkened window. A massive, neon-green piece of spinach was wedged between her front teeth. Corey was definitely watching.

"WHY didn't you tell me?" she hised, covering her mouth.

"I thought it was part of the artistic vibe!"

Maya bolted to the bathroom, water splashing everywhere as she aggressively washed her hands and scrubbed at her teeth. Her hair had expanded to occupy more volume than her actual body. She looked like a confused poodle caught in a rainstorm.

"Maybe I just won't go," she said to her reflection. "Maybe I'll fake a sudden illness. Maybe I'll move to Iceland."

"Maya?" A voice from the doorway.

Corey stood there in their band concert polo, looking unreasonably calm. "Hey, I heard something about spinach."

Maya wanted to die. Instead, she just said, "I am a sphinx of embarrassment. Riddle me this: why is existing so hard?"

Corey laughed, and it wasn't mean. "Last month, I tripped over a amp cord during assembly and took down the entire drum section. Four people watched me face-plant."

"Really?"

"Really. So... you still going tonight?"

Maya looked at her disastrous hair, her spinach-free teeth, Corey's genuine smile. Something unclenched in her chest.

"Yeah," she said, feeling a sudden spark—like lightning behind her ribs, bright and impossible to ignore. "Yeah, I'm going."

"Cool," said Corey. "Cool. I'll, uh, I'll save you a dance. If that's cool. It's cool if it's not cool—"

"It's cool," Maya said, grinning. "It's very cool."

Her hair was still a disaster. She was probably going to spill something on herself before the night was over. But somehow, that didn't matter anymore.