Papaya Poolside Protocol

Summer 2026, and I was definitely not ready for pool season. My mom had me taking these giant vitamin supplements every morning - "for your health, mijo" - which was basically code for "you're looking a little pale."

At Diego's quince prep party, the pool looked fake blue against the June sky. I'd been avoiding swimming for three weeks because last time I cannonballed, my swim trunks decided to betray me and ripped right down the middle.

In front of everyone.

Including Sofia with the perfect hair.

"I'm just here for the vibes," I told myself, clutching a soda can like it was a lifeline. Until Sofia appeared with this fancy fruit drink thing.

"What is that?" I asked, gesturing at her cup.

"Papaya smoothie," she said, and I almost choked on my own spit. "My abuela's recipe. Want a sip?"

I hesitated. I'd never even seen a papaya in real life, let alone drank one. But Sofia was looking at me with those eyes that made my brain short-circuit, so I nodded.

The drink was... interesting. Like if a tropical island had a baby with a health food store. I tried not to gag.

"You hate it," she laughed.

"No, it's... it's definitely an experience," I managed, wiping my mouth. "Very sophisticated."

Sofia splashed me, and suddenly I was in the pool, fully clothed, SOC (shirt over camp) be damned. The cool water washed away all the overthinking I'd been doing all summer.

"Finally!" Diego yelled. "Chicken fights!"

Sofia climbed onto my shoulders, and I forgot about the vitamin incident, the swim trunk disaster, everything. We dominated. Her laughter vibrated through my whole body, and I realized I'd been stressing about absolutely nothing.

Maybe it was the papaya nutrients kicking in, or maybe it was just Sofia squeezing my shoulders and yelling "DESTROY THEM," but I finally felt like I could actually breathe.

I bought more swim trunks the next day. And yeah, I even tried making that papaya smoothie. It was gross. But I smiled the whole time anyway.