The Spinach Incident

Maya stared into the bathroom mirror, horror flooding through her. A bright green piece of **spinach** was wedged firmly between her front teeth. She'd been talking to Ryan for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes! With **spinach** in her teeth like some kind of decorative statement.

"You've got to be kidding me," she groaned, grabbing her toothbrush like a weapon. This was exactly why she didn't do parties. Especially not Jordan's parties, where the school's entire social hierarchy gathered to judge each other in HD.

Outside, muffled bass thumped through the door. Someone shouted something about **goldfish** shots, and Maya's stomach did a nervous flip. She'd only come because Chloe had practically dragged her here, promising this would be her night to finally talk to Ryan. Now she'd be known as Spinach Girl forever.

The bathroom door creaked open. A girl with dramatic eyeliner and the confidence of someone who'd never had a food-in-teeth incident leaned against the doorframe. "You've been in here forever. Jordan's **zombie** makeup is starting to crack and she needs the mirror."

"I'm dying," Maya confessed. "I had spinach in my teeth. While talking to Ryan."

"Girl." The girl—Sasha, maybe?—rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Ryan's got the memory of a **goldfish**. He won't remember. But you know who will?"

"Who?"

"Literally everyone, because you've been hiding in the bathroom all night instead of owning it." Sasha's expression softened. "Look, last year at homecoming, I had chocolate smeared across my face like a messed-up **zombie** extra for three hours. My sister didn't even tell me until I got home."

"What did you do?"

"Posted the pics first. Controlled the narrative." Sasha shrugged. "Now it's my signature look. Anyway, Jordan's out there being a **bull** in a china shop, knocking over drinks. You coming?"

Maya studied herself in the mirror. The spinach was gone. Her hair was decent. The nervous-looking girl staring back was just going to have to be enough.

"You know what," she said, "yeah."

Outside, the party roared like a living thing. Somewhere, Ryan was probably still talking to whoever. Maya could hide in the bathroom all night, becoming a bathroom **sphinx** of solitude and social anxiety. Or she could go out there, maybe make a fool of herself, maybe not.

Either way, she'd survive. She always did.

Maya squared her shoulders and opened the door. Time to face the music. Or at least the bass.