Papaya Prom and the Zombie Hat

Maya stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her dad's old fedora. The hat sat slightly crooked on her curly hair, but she liked how it made her feel—mysterious, intentional. Like someone who knew exactly who she was.

She definitely didn't feel that way inside.

"You going to wear that to Jordan's party?" her little brother Leo asked from her doorway. "You'll look like a wannabe hipster zombie."

Maya rolled her eyes. "It's called aesthetic, Leo. And it's better than showing up in sweatpants like last year."

Last year. When she'd spent the entire homecoming party watching Tyler from across the gym while eating weirdly sweet fruit punch and wishing she could disappear into the floorboards.

This year would be different. This year, she was actually going to talk to him.

Her phone buzzed. Group chat blowing up about the pre-game at Jordan's house. Apparently, his rich parents had installed a padel court in the backyard last month, and everyone was obsessed with this new sport that was basically tennis but easier and cooler.

Maya couldn't play padel to save her life. She couldn't really play regular tennis either. But she'd watched enough YouTube tutorials to fake it.

"Are you eating spinach again?" her mom called from downstairs. "That stuff stains your teeth!"

Maya glanced at her salad and sighed. She'd tried going vegetarian for two weeks last month, until her friends had stopped inviting her to get food because it was "too complicated." Now she just ate whatever appeared in front of her, including this papaya her mom had cut up for her snack.

The papaya sat there, bright orange and full of seeds, looking like something that belonged on a food blog, not in the hands of someone whose greatest talent was staring at Tyler without making eye contact.

She took a bite anyway. Sweet, weirdly textured, completely uncool. Just like her.

The doorbell rang.

Maya's stomach dropped. That would be Harper, her ride to the party, coming way too early. Harper, who was basically Instagram famous and could make playing padel look like an Olympic sport while Maya would probably trip over her own feet.

She grabbed her phone and headed downstairs, adjusting the hat one more time.

This year would be different. It had to be.

Even if she felt like a zombie in a fedora eating tropical fruit on her way to a sport she didn't know how to play.

Even if she still didn't know who she was supposed to be.

But maybe that was okay. Maybe figuring it out was the whole point.

Maya took a deep breath and opened the door.