Papaya Summer

The pool party at Jordan's house was supposed to be my moment. New shorts from PacSun, hair perfectly messy, Kai from my history class actually looking my way. But then there was the papaya incident.

"You've never had papaya?" Jordan's cousin Maya asked, already slicing into the alien-looking fruit like it was the most normal thing in the world. Her older sister Chloe and her friends watched, waiting.

"Uh, no," I managed, while everyone stared. Of course they'd all had papaya. Of course they'd all traveled somewhere tropical. I'd barely left California.

I took a bite. Wrong move. My face did something involuntary and Maya's pug, Bear—a round, bug-eyed menace who'd been sleeping in the sun—started barking at me like I'd personally offended him. The group erupted laughing. Not mean laughing, but still. Kai saw everything.

I needed to escape. Just as I was backing toward the pool, planning my dignified retreat, Bear came charging at my ankles. I jumped—straight into the deep end. Clothes, phone, dignity all submerged.

When I surfaced, spluttering, Kai was at the edge, smiling but not laughing. "That was actually kind of badass."

"That?" I asked, dripping pool water everywhere. "That was a disaster."

"Nah," he said, holding out a hand. "You took it like a champ. Besides, Bear hates everyone. It's not personal."

I let him pull me up. His hand was warm. "What's with the dog's name anyway?"

"My little sister named him. She was obsessed with bears, still is. She's got like fifty stuffed ones in her room."

That night, running home under streetlights with damp hair and chlorine skin, I didn't feel like the loser who'd never had papaya. I felt like someone who'd jumped in anyway. Someone who'd survived Bear and lived to tell Kai about it. Sometimes the worst moments make the best stories. Sometimes you've got to take the plunge—even when you're fully dressed and totally unprepared.