The Vitamin Scheme

My mom's new 'business opportunity' arrived in a box marked VITALITY in aggressive orange letters. Another pyramid scheme. Last month it was essential oils, now it's vitamin supplements that supposedly cure everything from acne to anxiety.

'I need you to try these, Maya,' she said, shaking a container of green powder at me. 'It's got spinach extract. It's basically a salad in a scoop.'

'Mom, please,' I groaned, grabbing my padel racket. 'I'm going to the courts.'

Padel was my escape. The outdoor courts behind the community center were where I could breathe, where the crushing weight of freshman year and my mom's ever-expanding collection of wellness products couldn't reach me. At least, until Jordan showed up.

Jordan was a junior, with hair that fell in perfect waves and a smile that made my stomach do that annoying thing it does in movies. He was leaning against the fence when I arrived, twirling a racket.

'You play?' he asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

'Uh, yeah,' I managed, my voice suddenly an octave higher. 'You?'

'Been playing since I was twelve.' He tilted his head toward the empty court. 'Want to hit around?'

We played for twenty minutes. I was terrible, my serves hitting the net more often than going over, but Jordan didn't seem to mind. He laughed when I accidentally hit the ball into a tree, and when I finally managed a decent shot, he said, 'Nice,' like I'd actually accomplished something.

Afterward, we sat on the bench, both breathless. I was hyper-aware of my sweaty hair and the way my shirt was sticking to my back.

'So,' Jordan said, wiping his forehead. 'You going to the dance on Friday?'

My heart did a little flip. 'Maybe?'

'Cool.' He stood up. 'Same time tomorrow?'

'Yeah,' I said, trying to play it cool. 'Same time.'

When I got home, my mom was waiting, Vitamin pamphlets spread across the kitchen table like a war room.

'Maya! You have to try this!' She held up a green drink. 'It's got everything—spinach, kale, vitamin D. It's literally life-changing.'

I looked at her, then at the pamphlets, then at my reflection in the microwave door. Sweaty from padel, cheeks flushed from Jordan, feeling more alive than I had in weeks.

'You know what, Mom?' I said. 'Actually, yeah. Pour me a glass.'

She blinked, surprised. 'Really?'

'Really.' I took the glass, clinked it against hers. 'To new things.'

The vitamin drink tasted like grass and desperation. But as I swallowed, thinking about Jordan and tomorrow and the dance on Friday, it didn't taste so bad. Sometimes you have to swallow the weird stuff to get to the good parts.