The Vitamin D Deficiency Blues

Maya stared at her iPhone screen, thumb hovering over Leo's story for the third time today. His baseball jersey was practically glowing in that photo—he looked so effortless, so . . . unburdened. Meanwhile, she was here, choking down what her mom called 'brain vitamins' that tasted like chalk and failed expectations.

'You're overthinking it again,' said Jordan, sliding into the cafeteria seat across from her. Jordan had been her friend since seventh grade, back when friendship was about sharing snacks and not analyzing every single social interaction like it was a hostage negotiation.

'I am not overthinking,' Maya lied, immediately overthinking how obvious her lie was. 'I'm merely conducting thorough research before making a strategic social advancement.'

Jordan snorted. 'You mean you're stalking his Instagram like a CIA operative and simultaneously convincing yourself that you're not good enough to say hey.'

Maya slumped. 'Is it that obvious?'

'Girl, you've got it written all over your face. Also, you literally showed me his profile twelve times yesterday.' Jordan stole a grape from Maya's lunch. 'Here's the thing about Leo from baseball—he's just a guy. A guy who probably also has insecurities and weird habits and maybe an embarrassing obsession with something niche like competitive birdwatching or medieval weapons.'

'That's oddly specific.'

'The point is,' Jordan continued, 'you're sitting here treating your iPhone like it's some kind of emotional shield when really it's just keeping you trapped in your head. Those vitamins your mom makes you take? At least those actually do something.'

Maya looked at her phone, then at Jordan, who had stuck by her through braces and bad haircuts and that time she accidentally called her teacher 'mom' in front of everyone.

Real connection wasn't filtered through a screen. It wasn't perfectly curated or endlessly analyzable. It was messy and terrifying and . . . worth it.

'You're right,' Maya said, sliding her phone into her backpack. 'I should just talk to him. Like, an actual conversation. In person.'

Jordan grinned. 'Now we're getting somewhere. I'll even wingman you—we can discuss his baseball stats or something equally athletic that I know nothing about.'

'Sounds terrible,' Maya said, laughing. 'Let's do it.'