Papara, Palms, and Plato

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her shorts for the third time, staring at the text from Caleb: "Pool party @ Jake's. Definitely come. Bringing the papaya."

The papaya. Because apparently that was a thing now. Since when did fifteen-year-olds show up to pool parties with exotic fruit like they were trying to be main character energy or something?

"You're overthinking this," Chloe said from Maya's bed. "Caleb's been crushing on you since you fell UP the stairs in front of him and he didn't even laugh. That's true love."

Maya's mother appeared at the door. "Honey, did you know we have a papaya in the kitchen? Your father got experimental at Costco again."

Experimental Costco purchases. The story of Maya's life.

The papaya sat on the counter like an alien spacecraft—enormous, mottled yellow-orange, smelling of tropical desperation. Maya's mom handed her a cutting board. "Just take it. I bet Caleb's waiting."

Did she say that out loud, or was Maya just that obvious?

Jake's house was already chaos when Maya arrived, clutching the papaya like it was a bomb that might detonate. And there he was—Caleb, standing by the snack table with his perfect hair and his perfect smile, holding the world's tiniest goldfish in a plastic bag.

"No way," Maya breathed. "Is that... is that a goldfish?"

Caleb shrugged, looking weirdly nervous. "Yeah. Won it at the carnival last night. Can't really keep it at home—my mom's allergic. I was hoping..."

"Hoping what? That I'd adopt your carnival goldfish?" Maya started laughing. "Is this your way of flirting? Because wow, it's working."

Caleb turned bright red. "I mean. I don't know. You seemed like the kind of person who'd appreciate him. He's very... philosophical."

"Philosophical?" Maya raised an eyebrow. "He's a goldfish, Caleb."

"His name is Plato."

Maya lost it, full-on laughing now. And her palms weren't sweating anymore—they were just warm. Good warm.

"Plato the goldfish? Okay. Fine. I'll take him. But only if you help me figure out what to do with this papaya my dad made me bring."

Caleb's face lit up. "Dude, papaya is amazing. We can make smoothies. Jake's parents have that fancy blender."

"Since when do you know anything about papaya?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Maya." Caleb stepped closer. "Like how I've been wanting to ask you to hang out properly for months but kept chickening out because you're kind of intimidating."

Maya froze. "Intimidating? Me? The girl who fell UP the stairs in front of you?"

"Exactly." Caleb grinned. "You just don't care what anyone thinks. You're real."

They spent the afternoon making terrible papaya smoothies and arguing over whether Plato was actually more of an Aristotle kind of goldfish. When Caleb walked her to the gate later, her palms were sweating again. But this time, she didn't wipe them on her shorts.

"Same time next week?" Caleb asked. "I mean, not here. We could go to that diner downtown?"

Maya smiled so wide her face hurt. "Only if you promise not to bring any more carnival prizes. I can't handle the responsibility."

"No promises," Caleb said. "I'm pretty good at ring toss."

Maya walked home with Plato the goldfish, sticky papaya fingers, and Caleb's number saved in her contacts. Her palms were definitely sweating, and for once, that felt like exactly the right thing to be feeling.