The Spinach Incident

Maya stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, palms sweating like she'd just run a marathon. Tonight was Tyler's party—the party of the semester, basically. The one everyone would be posting about for weeks.

"You got this, girl," she whispered, then did a double-take. Something green. In her teeth. Oh no, no, no.

She'd eaten that spinach smoothie for lunch because her mom said it would "give her glowing skin." Now here she was, forty minutes before the biggest social event of freshman year, with emerald confetti wedged in her front teeth like tiny green sabotage.

She flossed. She brushed. She used her fingernail. Nothing worked.

"MAYA! Your ride's here!" her brother yelled from downstairs.

Panic rising, she grabbed her phone and opened the front camera. Still there. Visible from space, probably. She considered faking sick, but that would mean missing Tyler's party. Missing seeing Jason, who'd finally noticed her in chemistry yesterday.

She threw on her favorite orange hoodie—half hoping it would distract from her mouth, half because it was the only clean thing that smelled decent. Downstairs, she found her mom's old teddy bear from childhood sitting on the coatrack. Its plastic button eyes seemed to judge her.

"You couldn't bear to see me like this either, huh?" she muttered, shoving it aside.

Outside, Jenna's car waited with the windows down, music thumping.

"Girl, you look stressed," Jenna said when Maya slid into the passenger seat. "First time?"

"Very funny," Maya groaned. "I think I have spinach in my teeth."

Jenna leaned in, squinting. "Dude, I don't see anything. You're good."

"You're just being nice."

"No, for real. You're literally fine. Stop spiraling." Jenna handed her a gum. "Here. Crisis averted."

They pulled up to Tyler's house where cars lined both sides of the street. The bass from inside vibrated through the ground. Maya's stomach did somersaults.

"Remember what I said," Jenna said, grabbing her wrist. "You're good. Jason's gonna be all over you. And if he's not, his loss."

They walked in, and there he was—Jason, by the punch bowl, looking effortlessly perfect in his flannel. He caught Maya's eye and actually smiled. Not the fake polite smile. The real one.

"Hey Maya," he said, walking over. "I was hoping you'd come."

Maya's palms stopped sweating. She smiled back, and for once, she didn't overthink whether something was stuck in her teeth.

"Hey Jason," she said. "Yeah. Me too."

Later that night, she'd realize the spinach had been gone the whole time. But right now, in this moment, she was too busy living to worry about perfect.