The Sphinx Who Hated Orange Everything

I spotted her across the cafeteria, perched on a table like she was judging everyone's soul. We called her "the Sphinx" - quiet, mysterious, impossible to read. I'd been crushing on her since she'd transferred in September, wearing that vintage trench coat like she owned the school.

My hair, a defiant orange I'd dyed two weeks ago after my mom said it's "too loud," suddenly felt ridiculous. I reached for my phone, needing an escape from everyone staring, but my hand knocked over my lunch tray instead.

"Watch it," said Tyler, flashing that smirk that made half the school swoon. "No wonder you sit alone."

"Whatever," I muttered, but my face burned hotter than my hair.

That's when I saw it. My phone camera showed green spinach wedged between my front teeth - remnants from the breakfast smoothie my health-nut dad forced on me. Of course. Of course this was happening.

The Sphinx appeared beside me like she'd materialized from thin air.

"Nice hair," she said, actually meeting my eyes for the first time. "But you've got..." She gestured at her own teeth.

"Spinach," I whispered. "Because the universe hates me."

"Same," she said, and pointed to her own orange combat boots. "My mom says these look like traffic cones. She wants me to wear 'normal shoes.'"

"Those are awesome though," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded.

"Wanna get out of here?" she asked, tilting her head toward the doors. "This place is giving me a headache anyway."

"What about your friends?" I asked, nodding toward the popular table.

"They're not my friends," she said. "They're just people I haven't escaped yet."

My golden retriever, Max, was waiting by the front doors when we slipped out - my mom always dropped him off after her morning shift at the vet clinic. And of course my sister's cat, Mittens, was perched on the nearby stone bench, probably plotting world domination.

"Is that...?" the Sphinx asked.

"Max," I said. "And that evil fluffball is Mittens. They hate each other, obviously."

She actually smiled. "I'm Sam, by the way. The Sphinx thing is getting old."

"Leo," I said, unable to stop grinning. "And I promise the spinach doesn't stay."

"Good," she said. "Because orange hair and spinach teeth is a lot, even for me."

We walked toward the park, and I couldn't help thinking maybe being the guy with orange hair and spinach in his teeth wasn't the worst thing after all. Sometimes the stuff that makes you stand out is exactly what makes you interesting to the right person.