Fruit Salad Summer

Maya stood behind the **palm** tree in Mrs. Chen's backyard, silently praying her new swimsuit wasn't giving her too much underboob. The pool party raged without her—laughter, splashing, someone blasting that toxic TikTok song everyone pretended to hate but secretly loved.

"You coming in or what?"

She jumped. Jake. THE Jake. Senior class president, track star, and somehow still single. His hair was wet, **water** dripping down his neck in ways that should be illegal.

"Yeah. Just. You know. Heating up." Smooth, Maya. Absolute smoothness.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Your face is bright **orange**."

Great. Now she was a literal traffic cone.

"Funny story," someone called from behind them. It was Chloe, the human embodiment of main character energy. "Maya's afraid of deep **water**."

Maya's soul left her body. "I'm not—I just—"

"It's fine." Jake shrugged, totally unfazed. "I can't eat **papaya**. The texture's weird. Like eating a fossil."

They all stared at him.

"What? My mom makes tropical fruit salads every summer. I've had years to process this trauma." He cracked a grin. "We all got our stuff. You don't see me making fun of Maya's valid trauma about deep water."

Chloe rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Okay, but can we acknowledge how Maya's been hiding behind this **palm** tree for forty-five minutes like she's playing hide and seek with herself?"

"I wasn't hiding," Maya protested weakly.

"You literally were."

"I had to **bear** witness to Chloe's failed attempt to flirt with Tyler through interpretive dance," someone shouted from the pool.

"IT WAS CALLED EXPRESSIONISM!" Chloe screamed.

Jake snorted. "Dude, you looked like a dying flamingo."

The whole pool dissolved into chaos. Someone did a cannonball, soaking half the party. Maya's carefully curled hair was now plastered to her forehead. Her swimsuit—high-cut, expensive, supposedly confidence-boosting—felt like it was judging her entire existence.

And somehow? It was fine. Better than fine.

"Hey." Jake's voice dropped lower. "You want to get **water**? From the cooler? Not from the pool, obviously, that would be gross."

"Sure." She stepped out from behind the **palm** tree. "Just don't make me eat **papaya**."

"Deal." His smile did something weird to her stomach. "Your secret's safe with me."

Her face was probably still **orange**. She probably couldn't properly **bear** being this awkward forever. But walking toward that cooler? She felt like she could finally breathe.