The Vitamin Caper

Maya felt like a zombie walking through her high school's crowded hallways—exhausted, brain half-fried from AP chem, moving on autopilot toward her locker. Until she saw him. Tyler. The absolute bear of a lacrosse player who made her stomach do backflips since September. He was leaning against her locker, wearing his signature backward cap and that lopsided grin that could power the whole school's electricity.

"Hey, you left this in the library," he said, holding up her math notebook. The horror. She'd filled page seventeen with tiny M+T hearts and Mrs. Maya Landon doodles.

Her face burned hotter than a thousand suns. "Thanks!" she squeaked, grabbing it and shoving it deep into her backpack like it contained state secrets.

Later,躲在 bathroom stall, she conducted serious spy operations on Tyler's Instagram. His most recent post: a picture of Mr. Whiskers—the neighborhood stray cat who sat on everyone's porch like he paid rent there. Caption: "This random cat haunts my driveway every morning. I think he's plotting something."

OMG. Tyler liked cats. Maya literally had three cats at home. This was it. The golden ticket. The cosmic sign she'd been waiting for.

She raced home, her brain already crafting the perfect plan: she'd casually mention her cats tomorrow, they'd bond over feline appreciation, they'd fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after with approximately twelve cats.

But then her mom cornered her in the kitchen. "Did you take your vitamins? You've been looking so pale lately."

"Mom, I'm literally fine, just tired from—"

"Your father says vitamin D deficiency is basically a silent epidemic among teens." Her mom shoved two giant pills into her hand.

That night, Maya texted her best friend: *Update: my mom thinks I have rickets, my future husband loves cats but probably doesn't know I exist, and I just watched him follow like five other girls on Insta. Being a teenager is actually a curse.*

Her phone buzzed back: *Or maybe... you could just talk to him tomorrow? Like, using words? Wild concept, I know.*

Maya stared at the ceiling, her cat Luna purring against her legs. Tomorrow. She'd do it tomorrow. She'd talk to Tyler. She'd mention the cats. It would be fine. Everything would be fine.

Probably.

Definitely.

Okay, maybe she'd start with a simple "hey" and see what happened from there.