Goldfish in the Papaya

The papaya sat on my plate like an alien spacecraft. All orange and speckled and judging me.

"Try it, Maya!" Mrs. Chen beamed, probably thinking she was being the cool mom. "It's exotic!"

I'm pretty sure exotic is code for "your daughter is basic." Because I WAS basic. I liked Cheetos and pizza bagels and foods that didn't look like they came from another planet.

Across from me, Damien—the reason I'd agreed to this disaster of a dinner—was actually eating it. Smiling. Being sophisticated and stuff. Meanwhile, I had what felt like an entire salad of spinach stuck in my braces from earlier.

"So," Damien said, all smooth voice and perfect hair. "Your fish is... interesting."

He was looking at Goldie. My literal goldfish. In a literal bowl. On the literal dinner table. Because apparently, according to my dad, "fish need family time too."

"Yeah," I said. "Goldie's pretty chill."

Goldie chose that exact moment to do a absolutely unholy wiggle and splash water everywhere. Directly onto Damien's nice khakis.

CRINGE LEVEL: MAXIMUM.

"Whoa," Damien said, wiping water from his thigh. "Your fish is... energetic."

My face burned like I'd stuck it in a toaster. I wanted to disappear. Vaporize. Cease to exist.

Then Mrs. Chen put MORE spinach on my plate.

"You need your greens, honey!"

I stared at my plate. Spinach. Papaya. A fish that had justsplash-attacked my crush. This was it. This was my rock bottom.

But then Damien started laughing. Not mean laughing—REAL laughing.

"Dude," he said. "Your fish just declared war on my pants. That's legendary."

I looked at Goldie doing little victory laps in the bowl. And suddenly I was laughing too.

"Fine," I said, picking up a piece of papaya. "I'll try the alien fruit if you try the spinach."

"Deal," Damien said, grinning.

The papaya was actually sort of good? Sweet but weirdly peppery. And Damien ate like one piece of spinach and made a face like he'd just licked a sidewalk, which made me laugh so hard I snorted.

Sometimes the most mortifying moments end up being the ones that actually matter. Sometimes you just gotta embrace the chaos—spinach teeth and all.