Papaya Midnight

Jordan leaned against the garage wall, clutching the papaya like it was a bomb. Sixteen and somehow still didn't know how to cut a piece of fruit without looking like an idiot on TikTok.

"You're overthinking it," Maya said, not looking up from her phone. She'd been saying that a lot lately, ever since Jordan accidentally DM'd the wrong person about their crush. "Just... slice it. It's fruit, not rocket science."

"My mom's making me bring it to the potluck," Jordan muttered. "Because apparently 'cultural fusion' is more important than my dignity."

They were supposed to be running—the cross country team's optional Saturday practice, but neither of them had shown up. Coach was going to kill them on Monday, honestly. Jordan's legs were already dreading it.

The cable dangling from the garage ceiling swayed in the wind. They'd spent the last hour messing with it, trying to hook up Jordan's ancient TV to stream movies in the backyard. The whole thing was ridiculous. They were seventeen, technically adults, and they couldn't figure out which HDMI port was which.

"Your dad's gonna be so mad we broke his cable," Maya said, finally looking up. She grinned. "Worth it though."

"He's not gonna notice," Jordan said, though they both knew he would. Her dad noticed everything.

That's when they heard it—crashing through the woods behind Jordan's house. Something big.

Maya froze. "Was that..."

"A bear?" Jordan's voice squeaked. "There aren't bears here. This is suburban Ohio."

The crashing got closer. Jordan grabbed Maya's hand—they both stopped breathing. This was it. This was how they died. Not at cross country practice, not at graduation, but eaten by a bear in Jordan's backyard while holding an uncut papaya.

But then the rustling stopped. A massive shape emerged from the trees, and Jordan screamed—

Until it stepped into the moonlight.

"Mr. Henderson?" Maya whispered.

Their elderly neighbor stood there in his bathrobe, holding what looked like a broken fence post. He stared at them. "Are you two... alright?"

Jordan's heart was still hammering. "We thought you were a bear."

Mr. Henderson's eyebrows went up. "A bear?"

"We were running from cross country," Maya lied smoothly, like a pro. "Jordan's dad sent us to check on the fence."

Jordan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Mr. Henderson just nodded, like this was all perfectly normal, and shuffled back toward his house.

When he was gone, Maya finally cracked up. "Oh my god. We're the worst."

Jordan looked at the papaya, then at the dangling cable, then at the woods where Mr. Henderson had disappeared. "Yeah," they said, starting to laugh too. "Yeah, we are."

They ended up sitting on the garage floor until 2 AM, eating papaya with their hands and watching bad movies on Jordan's phone, the cable still hopelessly tangled above them. Jordan's legs were going to hurt so bad at practice on Monday.

Whatever. It was worth it.