The Sphinx With Spinach In Her Teeth

Maya dragged herself into first period like a legit zombie, fueled only by three hours of sleep and an iced coffee she'd snagged from the bodega. Her hair—normally her superpower—was currently doing some kind of electrocuted bird thing thanks to humidity and bad decisions involving a curling wand at 2 AM.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that Cameron, the sphinx himself, had actually noticed her existence yesterday. He'd asked if she had an extra pen, which was basically a marriage proposal in sophomore-year-speak.

Now he was sitting three rows ahead, his dark curls perfectly messy in that way that probably took zero effort but definitely took effort. Maya was still replaying their interaction when Sofia leaned over and whispered, "You've got something in your teeth."

Heart. Stopped.

She discreetly touched her front tooth. Nothing.

"Left side," Sofia hissed. "And it's green."

Maya's brain short-circuited. She'd eaten that spinach wrap for breakfast. That stupid, delicious, now-regrettable spinach wrap. She'd been walking around with green vegetation stuck in her braces since homeroom.

"For real?"

"For real."

Maya did what any reasonable person would do: she considered faking a seizure. Instead, she grabbed her phone, opened the camera, and there it was—a tiny piece of spinach, wedged between her brackets like a sad little garnish.

Cameron turned around. Their eyes met. He smiled.

Then she realized—he could see it too.

"Your shoelace is untied," he said.

She looked down. Both were double-knotted.

When she looked back up, he was grinning. "Got you. But also, you have a little—" he gestured to his own teeth.

Maya died. Actual death. Her ghost was writing this from beyond.

"Yeah, I know," she said, because at this point, dignity was optional. "It's spinach. It's my aesthetic now."

Cameron laughed. Actually laughed. "I mean, it works. Very organic."

"Very farm-to-table," Sofia deadpanned from beside her.

The bell rang. As Maya gathered her things, Cameron lingered.

"Hey," he said. "There's this party at Jake's Friday. You going?"

She froze. This was it—the moment every teen movie had prepared her for.

"Maybe," she said, channeling her inner sphinx. "I'll have to check my schedule. I'm very busy being a zombie and showcasing garnish in my teeth."

"I'll save you a dance anyway," he said, walking backward like the absolute heartthrob he was. "Even if you're undead."

Maya watched him go, touching her hair nervously. It was still a disaster. Her teeth probably still had spinach residue. And she was functioning on caffeine and hope.

But somehow, she thought, picking up her phone to text Sofia about everything that just happened, this might actually be the best worst day of her life.