Papaya Summer

The temperature hit ninety-eight degrees when Maya's phone buzzed. *Pool party @ Jake's. 2pm. Everyone's going.*

Maya stared at her reflection. Her swimsuit was from last season, and the idea of exposing her pale, winter body to the entire sophomore class made her want to dissolve into a puddle. But Jake—the Jake with the stupid perfect hair and dimples that could end wars—would be there.

She grabbed her towel and headed out.

The party was already in full swing when she arrived. Music thudded against the garage door. Kids laughed everywhere, splashing in the crystal blue water. Maya stood by the fence, clutching her towel like a lifeline.

"Hey! You made it!" Jake appeared, water droplets glistening on his chest. "Grab something to eat. My mom went crazy with the fruit platter."

Maya drifted toward the food table, trying to look casual. There, arranged in an elaborate display, sat chunks of papaya, pineapple, and mango. She'd never tried papaya before. Her family's grocery budget stretched to apples and bananas on good weeks.

She speared a piece. It was soft, musky-sweet, slightly exotic. She was chewing thoughtfully when something brushed against her leg.

A golden retriever sat there, tail thumping hopefully, eyes fixed on her fruit.

"That's Buster," Jake said, appearing beside her. "He has a sophisticated palate for a dog. He once ate my science fair project."

Maya laughed, and something in her chest loosened. They spent the next hour talking—about nothing, about everything—while Buster lay contentedly at their feet. The papaya turned into shared snacks, which turned into Jake challenging her to a race, which turned into Maya forgetting to be self-conscious about her thighs or her last-season swimsuit or anything except how good it felt to laugh until her sides hurt.

Then she felt it—a weird sliding sensation against her ankle.

Maya looked down. A goldfish—clearly from the decorative pond near the patio—floated beside her, gasping at the water's surface.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "It's stuck."

Jake peered closer. "That's Goldie. My sister won her at the carnival last year. How did she even get here?"

The fish was definitely not supposed to be in the chlorined pool. Maya didn't think. She just reached in, cupped the frantic little creature in her hands, and made a run for the pond.

She was bent over, releasing Goldie back into safe waters, when Jake said, "You know, you're pretty cool."

Maya turned, dripping wet, hair plastered to her face, papaya juice on her chin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His smile was genuine. "Same time next week?"

She walked home that afternoon with sun-burned shoulders and the taste of papaya still on her tongue. For the first time since moving to this town, Maya thought she might actually belong here.