Papaya Lips and Crush Glasses

Maya shoved her locker door shut with her hip, heart doing that stupid fluttery thing whenever HE walked by. Jordan in his vintage band tees, effortlessly cool while Maya was just... effort.

"Yo, your hair's eating itself," said Leo, appearing beside her like the human equivalent of a golden retriever—lovable but incapable of reading a room.

Maya's hand flew to her curls. She'd spent forty-five minutes battling the frizz this morning. "It's called texture, Leo. Not everyone can be a straight-haired basic witch."

"Whatever. Did you finish the bio lab?" Leo trailed her down the hallway like a—yep, exactly like a lost dog.

"I started it." Lie. She'd spent all night overthinking whether Jordan's "nice shirt" comment yesterday meant something or if he was just being Jordan. The analysis had consumed her entire brain capacity.

At lunch, Maya pulled out her Tupperware. The distinctive sweet-musky scent hit her immediately. Papaya. AGAIN. Her mom's new health kick meant Maya was now That Girl With The Weird Fruit, while everyone else had normal lunchables and chips.

"Is that... is that papaya?" Leo asked, poking at it like it might bite.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it." Maya took a defiant bite, juice running down her chin. Great. Now she'd be known as Papaya Girl AND Messy Eater.

Then she felt it. That prickly sensation on the back of her neck. Someone watching.

She turned.

There was her seven-year-old brother, Mateo, crouching behind a pillar in the hallway, his phone pointed at her. The little SPY had somehow gotten into her school and was documenting her humiliation for his TikTok. Again.

"MATEO!"

He bolted, little legs pumping. Maya took off after him, papaya-fueled rage in her veins. She caught him by the water fountains.

"Delete it. NOW."

"But you looked so serious about your fruit," he wheedled. "It's comedy gold, Maya. You're literally going viral."

She snatched his phone, deleted the video, and marched him to the office where their bewildered aunt worked as receptionist.

When she finally returned to the cafeteria, breathless and annoyed, Jordan was sitting at her usual table. Talking to Leo. About HER.

"...her hair's actually really cool," Jordan was saying. "I wish I could pull off curls like that."

Maya froze. Her hair. The papaya. Even her annoying little spy-brother—it was all just noise in her head. The real story was happening right here, and she was almost too busy overthinking to notice.

She sat down. Jordan smiled.

"Hey. You want some papaya?" she asked, sliding the container forward.

"Weirdly," Jordan said, "I was hoping you'd ask."