The Spinach Incident

Maya's first week at Northwood High was going about as smoothly as trying to eat soup with a fork. Which was basically what she was doing at lunch that Tuesday, her fourth day, when IT happened.

She'd carefully arranged her cafeteria tray — the sad-looking **spinach** from the salad bar, a roll that could double as a weapon, and a chocolate milk carton — and was scanning the room for a place to sit. Every table seemed to have an invisible forcefield around it. The jocks. The theater kids. The ones who looked like they'd already mastered their LinkedIn profiles.

Then she saw him.

Jake sat alone at a corner table, wearing this faded navy **hat** pulled low over his eyes. He was sketching something in a notebook, completely unbothered by the cafeteria chaos. Maya felt weirdly drawn to him — he looked like he was operating on a different frequency than everyone else.

She made a split-second decision. Third-day Maya would have eaten in the bathroom. Fourth-day Maya was brave.

Too brave, as it turned out.

"Hey, mind if I—" Maya started, stepping forward, when her shoe caught on absolutely nothing. The tray tipped. Time seemed to slow down as her entire lunch performed an unintentional magic trick, with the spinach taking center stage.

It landed. Perfectly. Right on Jake's notebook.

Maya wanted to dissolve. This was it. Her social life at Northwood was over before it began. She'd be known as Spinach Girl forever.

Jake looked up, slowly pushing his **hat** back. For a terrible second, he just stared at the green mess on his sketch.

Then he started laughing. Not mean laughter — the genuine, bent-over-double kind.

"Dude," he said, wiping his eyes. "You just totally improved this drawing."

He tilted the notebook so she could see. It was a cartoon bear — a ridiculously grumpy-looking **bear** wearing a tiny backpack, labeled "Monday"

"The spinach adds ... texture," Jake said. "Also, I'm Jake. And you're officially my favorite person this week."

"Maya," she managed, still breathless from embarrassment. "And I'm so sorry about your bear."

"Nah, he needed greens. He's been looking kinda pale." He started carefully picking the spinach off his drawing. "Sit down? Unless you're planning to redecorate my entire notebook."

Maya sat, her face still burning but something warm spreading through her chest. As she **palm**-ed her face, she caught Jake's smile — crooked, genuine, totally unbothered.

"So," he said, sliding his hat forward again. "You always make such dramatic entrances, or was this a special occasion just for me?"

Maya laughed, finally. "Only on Tuesdays."

Well. At least she wouldn't be invisible anymore.