Cable of Shame

I should've known my first pool party would be a disaster when Maya's dad offered me papaya.

"Try it, Leo! It's practically nature's candy," Mr. Henderson said, all bright-eyed and suburban enthusiastic.

I'd never had papaya before. My family's more of a "banana if it's on sale" type. But I was trying to impress Maya, so I took a bite.

Big mistake.

It tasted like someone had left a melon out in the sun for three days. I somehow swallowed it without gagging, but my face must've done something weird because Maya laughed. Not mean laughter—she thought I was making a joke.

"Oh my god, Leo, your reaction!" She wiped her eyes. "You're hilarious."

I'll take hilarious over "has the palate of a toddler," I guess.

Then came the swimming situation. Everyone was jumping in, cool and effortless. Maya dove in like a mermaid. I stood there in my swim trunks that were slightly too long (thanks, Target sale rack) because:

a) I didn't want anyone to see my pasty winter legs

b) I couldn't actually swim that well

"You coming?" Maya called from the water. And okay, I was going in.

But then—I kid you not—I tripped over something. A thick black cable snaking across the deck. Who puts a cable near a pool? I went down hard, right into the shallow end. Splash.

Everyone stared. I stood up, dripping wet, my dignity somewhere at the bottom of the pool.

"That cable is for the speaker system," Mr. Henderson said helpfully. "Sorry, should've moved it."

I had to bear it—three whole minutes of utter humiliation while Mr. Henderson found an extension cord elsewhere. Maya didn't laugh this time. She just gave me this look, like she was waiting to see how I'd handle it.

So I did the only thing I could do.

"Well," I said, shaking water from my hair, "at least I didn't faceplant into the papaya."

Maya smiled. A real one this time.

"Next time," she said, "I'll warn you about the fruit."