Papaya at the Pool Party

The papaya chunks sat in my Tupperware like radioactive waste. My mom had packed them 'for energy,' which was mom-code for 'I don't trust the concession stand.' The whole locker room reeked of chlorine and cheap body spray, and there I was with tropical fruit that smelled like someone's gym bag forgot itself in the sun.

"Yo, Kai, you coming?" Marcus called from the pool deck. "Jackson's about to jump off the high dive like he's in the Olympics or something."

I shoved the Tupperware deeper into my bag. "Yeah, just—gotta tie my shoe."

Because here's the thing: I'm from Hawaii. Well, my parents are. I've lived in suburban Ohio since I was five, but somehow everyone assumed being part-Hawaiian meant I was basically part fish. Like it was genetic or something.

"Dude, your cousins probably surf before breakfast," Marcus had told me yesterday. "You're gonna crush it at the party."

I'd nodded because explaining that I'd barely been in a pool since age eight and my cousins lived in Indiana seemed like too much work. Now I regretted everything.

Jackson did some kinda-flip off the diving board. Splash. Water everywhere. Everyone cheered.

"Kai!" Sarah waved me over. She was wearing this pink bikini that made my brain do that thing where it forgot how to words. "We're doing chicken fights. You and Marcus versus me and Jenna."

Chicken fights. In the deep end. Where my feet wouldn't touch.

"I—uh—" My face was burning. "Actually, I'm not feeling great. Think I ate something—"

My backpack chose that moment to tip over. The Tupperware slid out and popped open. Papaya chunks scattered across the concrete like confetti at a fruit-themed funeral.

Everyone stared.

"Is that... papaya?" Sarah wrinkled her nose.

"My mom—" I started.

"Wait, you actually LIKE that stuff?" Marcus looked impressed. "That's hardcore, bro. I tried it once and literally gagged."

"It's an acquired taste," I said automatically.

Sarah laughed. "Okay, that's actually kinda cool. My parents won't even let me eat anything that doesn't come from a chain restaurant."

"For real though," Jackson said, swimming over. "Papaya? That's wild. What's it taste like?"

And suddenly they were all asking about Hawaii and whether I'd ever surfed (no) and if papaya was actually good (yes, shut up). The chicken fight was forgotten. My secret inability to swim was safe for another day.

"It's not that weird," I said, popping a chunk into my mouth. "Want to try?"

Jackson made a face but held out his hand.

I passed him a piece. He ate it, chewed, made a face like he'd swallowed a bug, then shrugged. "Okay, that's actually not terrible. Still weird though."

"Told you," I said.

And just like that, I went from the kid who was probably gonna embarrass himself to the exotic fruit guy. Way better identity. My mom would be so proud.