Papaya at the Pool Party

Maya's hair had betrayed her. Somewhere between the humidity and her attempt at beach waves, her frizz had morphed into something resembling a electrocuted poodle. She stood at the edge of Jenna's pool party, clutching a red Solo cup like it was a lifeline.

The social pyramid at East Valley High was in full effect tonight. Jenna lounged on a flotation device in the center of the pool like she was Cleopatra, her entourage of perfectly-coiffed friends forming smaller pyramids around her. Maya wasn't even at the base level—she was the dirt underneath.

"Hey, you're in my AP Bio class, right?"

Maya jumped. A guy with neon blue swim trunks and hair that defied gravity stood beside her, holding a plate of fruit.

"Yeah, AP Bio with Mr. Harrison. You sit behind me."

"I'm Leo," he said. "Want some? My mom's obsessed with exotic fruit." He offered the plate.

Maya stared at the unfamiliar orange slices. "What is that?"

"Papaya. It's actually fire if you put lime on it." He sprinkled something from a shaker. "Here."

She took a bite, expecting disaster, but—okay, wow. It was actually kind of amazing.

"See? You've got good taste." Leo grinned. "Unlike whatever Jenna's doing over there."

He gestured to the pool, where Jenna had fallen off her flotation device and was now dramatically splashing everyone in her vicinity.

"She's been making everything about her since sixth grade," Maya said, surprised by her own honesty.

"The pyramid's getting old anyway." Leo dove into the pool, surfacing seconds later. "Coming in?"

Maya looked at her frizzy hair in the reflection of the patio door. Whatever. It was just hair.

She jumped in, papaya aftertaste still sweet on her tongue, and for the first time all summer, she didn't care where she ranked.