Papaya Protocol

The chlorine stung my eyes as I leaned back in the lifeguard chair, another summer Saturday at the Pine Hollow Community Pool. My shift had been dead boring until I noticed him — the new kid, what's-his-name, Santiago — lurking behind the concession stand with something yellow-orange in his hands.

I wasn't trying to be a creep, but spying came with the territory. Mrs. Henderson had made it my personal mission to catch anyone "up to no good." Apparently, that included Santiago and his suspicious fruit.

"You gonna stare all day, or you actually gonna blow your whistle?"

I nearly jumped out of the chair. Maya stood poolside, dripping wet, her expression half-amused, half-annoyed. Of course she'd caught me watching Santiago. Maya noticed everything, which was probably why she ran the school's social hierarchy like a military operation.

"I'm doing my job," I said, though my face burned anyway.

"Your job involves stalking the new kid with papayas?" She raised an eyebrow. "Because that's not weird or anything."

"It's not stalking if it's surveillance."

"Whatever you say, Sherlock." She adjusted her swimsuit straps. "Just so you know, everyone thinks you're being extra intense about the pool rules because you're secretly crushing on him."

"What? No! I'm —"

"Relax, I'm messing with you." She studied my face. "Though... are you?"

"I'm not!" But even as I said it, my brain was replaying the way Santiago's dark curls fell over his eyes when he thought no one was looking. The way he'd caught me watching him once and done this tiny awkward wave instead of getting creeped out.

"Right. Totally not." Maya's grin suggested she wasn't buying it. "Hey, heads-up — he's coming over."

Santiago approached the lifeguard chair with what looked like sliced papaya on a paper plate. My stomach did this weird fluttery thing that had nothing to do with being hungry.

"Hey," he said, holding out the plate. "I, uh, noticed you watching me earlier. And I figured maybe you'd want some? It's fresh, my mom gets them from the farmer's market."

I stared at him, then at the papaya, then at Maya, who was practically vibrating with suppressed laughter.

"I was just... you know, doing rounds," I managed, which was a complete lie.

"Right." Santiago's small smile said he knew exactly what I'd been doing. "Well, anyway. See you around."

As he walked away, Maya fake-coughed "NOT STALKING" into her fist.

"Shut up," I muttered, taking a bite of papaya. It was actually pretty good. Sweet and tropical and nothing like what I expected.

"So," Maya said, "when's the wedding?"

"When you stop being terrible."

"Never happening." She dove into the pool, surfacing a moment later. "But seriously? He brought you papaya because he noticed you noticing him. That's either the smoothest move ever or the most awkward thing I've ever witnessed."

I watched Santiago across the pool, where he'd settled onto a lounge chair with a book. He glanced up, caught my eye, and gave that tiny wave again.

"Maybe both," I said, and took another bite.

Maybe being a spy wasn't so bad after all. Sometimes the intel you gather turns out to be worth everything. Especially when it leads to papaya and cute boys and the realization that sometimes, being caught watching someone isn't the worst thing that could happen.