The Spinach Prophecy

The reception hall smelled like fancy cheese and desperation. I clutched my iPhone like a lifeline, scrolling through feeds to look busy, confident, totally not dying inside.

"Leo! Go talk to people!" Mom hissed, shoving me toward the dance floor.

People. Right. Because that's what 15-year-olds want to do at their aunt's wedding: mingle with tipsy relatives who ask about college plans.

I made a beeline for the appetizers. Safety in spinach puffs. Or so I thought.

Then I saw Sophie. THE Sophie. Junior varsity volleyball captain, had sat behind me in bio since September, the reason I actually bothered styling my hair today. She was by the palm reader booth, looking as out of place as I felt.

My stomach did something gymnastic. I smoothed my shirt, checked my reflection in a champagne glass, and swaggered over. Cool. Casual. Been here a thousand times.

"Hey," I said. Smooth.

She turned, and her eyes went wide. Not the good kind.

"Hey, Leo..." She bit her lip, clearly fighting laughter. "You've got..."

I froze. My tongue darted to my teeth. Spinach. A magnificent, neon-green chunk of spinach, wedged in my front teeth like a banner of social suicide.

"Oh my GOD," I muttered, turning so fast I almost knocked over the palm reader's crystal ball.

"No, wait—" Sophie started.

I was already speed-walking toward the bathroom, already drafting my resignation letter from society. I'd homeschool. I'd move to Alaska. I'd become a monk.

A hand caught my wrist. Sophie's hand. Her palm was warm against my skin, soft but surprisingly strong.

"Leo, chill," she said. "The palm reader says green's actually lucky. Something about growth and new beginnings."

I stared at her. "That's the most BS thing I've ever heard."

She grinned, and it was gorgeous and slightly evil. "Maybe. Or maybe I just didn't want the cute guy from bio to escape before I could finally say hi."

My brain short-circuited. Cute? Guy from bio? HI?

"Your teeth are fine now," she added. "Also, she says you're going to fall in love this summer."

"Did she now?" I managed, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Yeah. Want to prove her right?"

Outside, the DJ started playing actual good music. I looked at Sophie, then at my palm still tingling where she'd grabbed it, then back at her.

"Only if you promise to tell me if I have food in my teeth," I said.

"Deal." She linked her arm through mine. "Now come on, I'm pretty sure that's your mom taking pictures."

The spinach puff was gone. The iPhone stayed in my pocket. And for the first time all night, I wasn't scrolling through anyone else's life—I was too busy starting my own.