The Spinach Smoothie Incident

Maya stared at the monstrosity in her blender. It looked like something from a toxic waste dump, not a health TikTok. The green sludge contained: three handfuls of spinach, a scoop of protein powder that had expired during the Bush administration, and the dregs of yesterday's pre-workout.

"You're actually gonna drink that?" Leo leaned against her doorframe, looking like he'd just walked off a Vans photoshoot. "That's actual vomit energy, Maya."

"It's called self-improvement, Leo. Maybe try it sometime instead of spying on my morning routine." Maya had caught him watching her Instagram stories way too often for it to be coincidental. Not that she minded. Okay, she minded a little. Or a lot, depending on the day.

The smoothie tasted like wet grass and disappointment. Maya choked it down anyway because she was seventeen and determined to become the kind of person who actually liked healthy things. Meanwhile, her actual best friend lay in pieces on her bedroom floor—a 1,000-piece sphinx puzzle she'd been "working on" since summer break started. The sphinx's missing eye judged her from across the room.

"My parents want me to go to that leadership camp again," Leo said suddenly, picking at his chipped black nail polish. "You know, the one where they teach you to network and shake hands and pretend to care about climate change startups."

Maya nearly spat spinach everywhere. "Dude. You literally cried during that campfire sharing circle last year."

"I was EMOTIONALLY VULNERABLE, Maya. It was growth."

The truth was, neither of them had figured out who they were supposed to be yet. Maya posted sunset photos with fake-deep captions but spent most weekends rewatching the same three shows. Leo acted like nothing bothered him while quietly stressing about everything. They were both just pretending to have it together, hoping nobody noticed the pieces that didn't fit.

"Want to come over?" Leo asked. "We could finish your sphinx. Or stare at the ceiling. Whatever."

Maya grabbed her phone off the counter—three unread texts from her camp group chat asking if she was coming back this summer. She'd been avoiding the question all week.

"Yeah," she said, rinsing her smoothie cup with water until all evidence of her failed wellness experiment disappeared down the drain. "Let's go. But I'm making you try the next batch."

"Hard pass." He grinned. "But I'll bring snacks. Actual food."

The sphinx could wait another day. Some things were more important than solving the puzzle.