Papara Confidence Protocol

Maya smoothed down her frizzy **hair** for the hundredth time, catching her reflection in the hallway mirror. The first pool party of junior year. The invitation had come from Jason—actual Jason, who somehow made varsity soccer and AP Physics look effortless.

"You got this," she whispered, practicing the confidence she definitely didn't feel. Channeling inner **bear** mode. That's what her TikTok feed called it anyway—summoning raw, unbothered energy like you're about to hibernate through someone's nonsense.

The backyard was already packed when she arrived. People were everywhere—on loungers, on the deck, in the **pool** itself, music bumping from somewhere near the outdoor speakers. The air smelled like coconut sunscreen and chlorine.

"Maya! You made it!" Jason waved from the shallow end, water dripping from his perfect hair. "Come hang!"

Her stomach did that thing where it forgot how to stomach. She'd barely eaten all day, too nervous. There was a fruit display on the patio table—chunks of pineapple, mango, and something orange and exotic-looking. She grabbed a piece of the orange stuff, assuming it was cantaloupe.

It was definitely not cantaloupe.

**Papaya**. The most aggressively un-cantaloupe fruit in existence. She made a face and quickly grabbed something green to reset her palate. **Spinach** leaf. Who served whole spinach leaves at a pool party?

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Someone from her English class appeared beside her. Riley. Riley, with the cool undercut and the devastatingly pretty smile. "You look like you just ate something that personally offended you."

"I did," Maya said, then immediately wanted to disappear. "This papaya is a hate crime."

Riley laughed—actually laughed, head thrown back, like she'd just said something brilliant. "I respect a strong opinion on tropical fruit. Want to help me judge everyone's swimsuit choices? It's basically a sport at this point."

And just like that, it clicked. The hair she'd stressed over? Riley's was doing something similar in the humidity. The bear-mode confidence she'd been faking? Riley was doing the same thing—shoulders back, chin up, pretending like they belonged.

"Absolutely," Maya said, feeling something real settle in her chest. "But we're starting with Jason's weirdly-patterned trunks. I have thoughts."

The pool sparkled behind them. Jason was still waving. She'd get to him eventually, maybe. But right now, she had better things to do—like finding out if Riley's laugh was always this contagious, and whether there might be something more than friendship blooming between them, papaya mishaps and all.