Papara

Jordan's hat was practically fused to his head at this point—a black beanie his sister called his emotional support fabric. Which, fair. Freshman year was hitting different.

"Yo, you gonna try it or just stare at it like it owes you money?" Maya's grin was too knowing. She pushed the plate forward. Papaya. The fruit looked alien, all orange flesh and black seeds like something that'd fallen off a spaceship.

Jordan's pulse kicked up. Trying new foods in front of people? That was social suicide waiting to happen. What if he hated it? What if he made a face? What if—

Buster, Maya's ancient golden retriever, chose that moment to waddle over and rest his chin on Jordan's knee. The dog's soulful eyes said, I believe in you, or possibly, I am a good boy and also snack.

"Everyone's acting like this stuff is ambrosia," Jordan muttered, "but what if it's mid?"

"Mid?" Maya's other friend, Kai, leaned against the counter. "Bro, it's fruit, not a final exam. Just taste it. Unless you're scared."

"I'm not scared."

"That's bull," Kai said, laughing.

Jordan picked up his fork. The room felt too quiet, like everyone was holding their breath. He wasn't even sure why this mattered so much—except it did. It was about proving something to himself, maybe. That he could be the kind of person who tried things. Who didn't let fear call the shots.

He took a bite.

Sweet. Creamy. Kind of like mango slept with a cantaloupe and made a beautiful baby.

"Well?" Maya raised an eyebrow.

Jordan swallowed. "Actually... not terrible."

"Not terrible?" Kai scoffed. "Face it, you love it. You're gonna be addicted by next week. I see you sneaking papaya into your backpack for lunch."

"Okay, that's bull now."

But Jordan was smiling. And he took another bite.

Buster thumped his tail against the floor, like he knew something had shifted. Some small thing had unlocked—a willingness to be bad at things, to try stuff and maybe look foolish, to figure out who he was one weird fruit at a time.

"So," Maya said, "Friday we're trying boba. You in or what?"

Jordan adjusted his hat, considering. The old him would've made an excuse. The new him, the one who'd just eaten papaya and survived, thought: why not?

"Yeah," he said. "I'm in."