What the Spinach Saw

Maya's palms were sweating. Again.

She'd been "casually" sitting across from Jordan in the cafeteria for three weeks now, basically spying on his every move. Pathetic? Maybe. But when you're fifteen and your crush has dimples that could end wars, dignity becomes collateral damage.

The plan was simple: look chill, read her book, occasionally glance up like Jordan was merely background scenery. Flawless execution. Totally normal behavior.

Then came The Incident.

Her mom had packed that weird spinach-artichoke dip again. Maya had been moving it around her tray with the enthusiasm of someone dissecting a frog, when Jordan suddenly materialized at her table.

"Hey, mind if I sit? Everywhere else is packed."

Maya's brain: *[screaming]*

Maya's mouth: "Uh, yeah, sure, cool."

She didn't realize she'd clenched her fist in nervous excitement until she opened her hand to grab her juice box. There, smeared across her palm like green war paint, was a massive streak of spinach dip.

Jordan noticed. Of course he noticed.

"Nice," he said, gesturing at her hand with that stupidly adorable grin. "Going for the superhero look?"

"It's..." Maya's face burned. "It's camo. For when I need to blend in with salad bars."

Jordan laughed. An actual laugh, not one of those polite half-chuckle things people do when you say something weird.

"You're funny," he said. "I'm Jordan, by the way."

"Maya."

"Nice to meet you, Maya." He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Never change with the spinach camo, okay? It's your brand now."

Later that night, Maya caught her little sister watching her from the doorway.

"Were you spying on me?" Maya demanded.

"No," her sister said. "But the spinach was definitely judging you."

Maya looked at her hand, still faintly green despite three rounds of soap. She smiled.

Yeah. The spinach could judge all it wanted. Jordan knew her name now.

Progress.