The Spy in Homeroom

My palms were sweating so bad I could barely grip my phone. Again.

"You're doing that thing," Leah said, not looking up from her chem notes. "Where you mentally stalk Alex's Instagram instead of studying."

"I'm not stalking," I said, though we both knew that was bull. "I'm conducting research. There's a difference."

Leah snorted. "You're like a low-key spy at this point. I've seen you. You refresh his profile every five minutes like his posts are national security intel."

I slid my phone under my textbook anyway. My palms left damp marks on the pages—gross, but whatever. It's not like I could control it. My mom had bought me these stress vitamins from Target, supposedly chill pills in gummy form, but so far they'd done nothing for the nervous wreck situation.

"He keeps looking at me in third period," I whispered. "Like, full-on turning around in his seat."

"That's because you sit directly behind him, genius."

Leah didn't get it. She'd been dating Marcus since freshman year. She didn't know what it felt like to be simultaneously hyper-visible and completely invisible—to be the girl Alex's dog had barked at that one time she'd walked past his house (totally embarrassing, his golden retriever had lost its mind), but still just background noise in his actual life.

The bell rang. We packed up.

"What's the move?" Leah asked. "We gonna finally talk to him at lunch or what?"

"I can't just—"

"Yes you can. You're not being creepy, you're being ... proactive. Also, those vitamin gummies aren't gonna work miracles. You gotta actually talk to him."

She was right, obviously. The vitamins weren't magic. Being a silent observer wasn't getting me anywhere. I wasn't some spy in a movie—this was real life, and real life required actual courage.

So at lunch, when Alex walked past our table and accidentally knocked over my water bottle, I didn't overthink it. I didn't let my sweaty palms convince me to hide.

"Hey," I said. "You want help cleaning that up?"

He looked up, and for once, I wasn't watching from afar. I was right there. In it. His dog barked in my head—loud and chaotic—but this time, I didn't run away.