Three Strikes Friday

Maya's hands trembled as she held her iPhone 14, the flashlight app illuminating the bathroom mirror at 11:47 PM. First period AP History presentation. First time sitting next to Marcus. First time she'd worn her hair natural since the great straightening disaster of eighth grade.

Her phone pinged. A group chat notification:

"u coming to jason's party 2morrow?" – Brianna

Maya stared at her reflection, the springy coils finally accepting the moisturizer she'd spent twenty minutes working through them. Her phone pinged again. Instagram notification: Marcus had posted a story. Her thumb hovered over the screen, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing.

"Maybe," she typed back, then deleted. "idk yet." Deleted again.

The next morning, she woke up determined. Her hair looked genuinely amazing for once, defined and bouncy. She threw on her favorite oversized hoodie and grabbed a breakfast smoothie — kale, spinach, mango. Healthy choices, new Maya.

First mistake: checking her iPhone while walking.

Second mistake: trusting that the smoothie lid was actually secure.

The collision happened in slow motion. Her phone slipped. Her smoothie exploded. Spinach-green droplets decorated her newly perfected hair like some kind of terrible avant-garde accessory.

"No no no NO," she whispered frantically, racing to the bathroom.

Third strike: Marcus walked in right as she was desperately trying to rinse green chunks from her hair at the sink.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked. "You have... something..." He gestured vaguely at his own head.

Maya met his eyes in the mirror. There was spinach in her hair. There was spinach in her hair, and Marcus Santiago was looking at it, and her iPhone was sitting in a puddle of smoothie on the counter, screen flickering ominously.

She started laughing. She couldn't help it. It was so ridiculous.

"Spinach," she choked out. "It's spinach. From my smoothie. Because I'm trying to be a person who drinks smoothies."

Marcus grinned. "Well. At least you're getting your vitamins?"

Something shifted. The tightness in her chest loosened. This wasn't the perfect moment she'd planned, but somehow Marcus was still here. Still grinning.

"About Jason's party," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "You should come. I mean, if you want."

Her phone buzzed on the counter, screen miraculously still working. A notification: "answer him!!" – Brianna, who apparently had psychic timing.

Maya wiped spinach from her forehead with paper towels and smiled. "Yeah. I think I will."