Electric Papaya Nights

Maya stood at the edge of the **pool**, clutching her towel like it was the only thing holding her together. Sophia's parties were legendary—everyone who was anyone would be there, glowing and perfect in their swimsuits, while Maya felt like a potato someone had mistakenly invited to a fruit bowl.

"You coming in or what?" Sophia called from the water, surrounded by her squad of effortlessly gorgeous friends.

"Yeah! Just, uh, warming up!" Maya lied, immediately regretting how high-pitched her voice sounded. Smooth. Really selling the cool vibe there.

She'd barely stuck one toe in when **lightning** cracked across the sky, so bright it left spots in her vision. Someone screamed playfully, but then actual thunder rattled the porch windows.

"Everybody OUT!" Sophia's older brother yelled from the back door. "Storm's coming in fast!"

Chaos erupted. Twelve wet teenagers scrambled toward the house, slipping on the wet concrete, laughing and shoving. Maya grabbed her phone but realized in horror that she'd left her bag by the lounge chairs. She bolted back through the light rain, fingers closing around her tote just as the sky opened up.

Running inside, she tripped over someone's discarded flip-flops. Her bag flew open, and its contents tumbled across the kitchen floor in front of EVERYONE.

Including the **papaya** she'd impulsively bought at the international market because it seemed exotic and sophisticated.

Dead silence.

Leo—Leo, who'd sat behind her in bio since September and never once spoken to her—picked up the fruit. "Is that... a papaya?"

Maya's face burned. "I like tropical fruit. Problem?"

Leo's mouth twitched. Then he started laughing. Not mean laughing, but actual genuine laughter. "No. That's actually kind of awesome. I tried one once and it tasted like soap."

"It's an acquired taste," Maya said defensively, though she was smiling now despite herself.

"I respect the papaya commitment," Leo said, and something about the way he said it made her stomach do this weird little flip thing that had nothing to do with the storm.

They ended up squeezed onto the sofa together while rain pounded the roof, eating papaya slices with borrowed forks and arguing about whether it tasted like soap or sunshine. Maya caught Sophia watching them with this knowing look, and for the first time all night, she didn't feel like a potato in a fruit bowl.

Maybe sometimes the things that made you different were the things that made you find your people. Or at least, one person who appreciated your weird papaya choices.

The storm outside raged, but inside, everything had changed.