The Spinach Incident

Maya smoothed her vintage baseball hat for the third time, checking her reflection in the cafeteria window. Freshman year at Northwood High felt like walking through a minefield wearing concrete shoes.

"You good?" Marcus asked, sliding onto the bench beside her. "You've been fixing that hat like it's broken."

"I'm fine," Maya lied. Her stomach did that thing where it felt like spinach was stuck in her teeth even though she hadn't eaten spinach since elementary school. "Just thinking about the party tonight."

The Fox's party. Everyone who was anyone would be there—senior Fox Matthews, whose Instagram stories basically determined who existed at Northwood. Maya had scored an invite through her cousin's friend's sister, and she'd been psyching herself up all week.

Her phone buzzed. GROUP CHAT: SQUAD: "u coming or what??"

"Cable's out at my house," her friend Ji-hoon had texted earlier. "Can't stream the pre-game makeup tutorial. Ughhhh."

Maya's palms started sweating. She adjusted her hat again.

"You know," Marcus said, pushing his tray aside, "my brother says Fox Matthews is just some dude who happens to have a pool and rich parents. He's not, like, actual royalty."

Maya snorted. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's been invisible since August."

"Marcus waves at Maya every day," Marcus pointed out. "Does that count?"

Something in his tone made her actually look at him for the first time all week. Really look. His perfectly worn baseball cap, his dopey smile, the way he'd sat with her every lunch period even when she was too anxious to make conversation.

"Wait," she said slowly. "Are you—are you trying to say something?"

He turned the color of overcooked spinach. "I'm saying maybe we don't need Fox Matthews's validation to have a good Friday night. My parents got cable working again. We could order that spinach pizza you like."

Maya stared at him. Then at her phone, lighting up with notifications about a party that suddenly seemed exhausting. Then back at Marcus, who'd been sitting with her at lunch since day one while she obsessed over people who didn't know her name.

"You know what?" She flipped her hat backward, feeling something shift in her chest—lighter, somehow. "Spinach pizza sounds way better than standing around pretending to be cool."

Marcus's grin could have powered the whole school. "Bet. But I'm never calling it that again."