Papaya Summer at the Pool

Bear. That was the name my dad had called me since I was, like, five. Not because I was tough, but because I was constantly 'growling' about something. Now, fifteen and trying to reinvent myself before sophomore year, I'd landed a summer gig as a pool attendant at the country club—mostly because I figured rich people wouldn't call me Bear.

They also didn't figure on me being completely clueless about, well, everything.

'You're up,' said Tyler, the senior lifeguard who'd somehow made ray-bans and a whistle look like a personality. 'Baseball game's starting, and the snack bar's swamped. You're on papaya duty.'

I stared at him. 'Papaya duty?'

'Club members' kids are obsessed with it. Don't ask.' He handed me a cutting board and a knife. 'Just don't mess this up like you did the sunscreen incident.'

I was still thinking about how much I hated that he remembered the sunscreen incident when I heard shouting from the baseball diamond. The club's summer league team was playing, and apparently someone important was watching. Tyler adjusted his sunglasses, checking his reflection in the glass doors. 'I'm gonna go supervise. From the chairs. Keep the papaya coming.'

So there I was, serving cut fruit to nine-year-olds in swimsuits while watching Tyler effortlessly charm everyone at the pool's edge. That was when Maya walked in—Maya, who'd sat behind me in algebra and somehow made solving for x look like an art form. She was wearing this vintage baseball jersey and carrying a gym bag like she owned the place.

'Hey,' she said, sliding onto the stool next to the fruit station. 'You're Bear, right? From algebra?'

I felt my face heat up. 'That's... not my name anymore. I'm going by Sam now.'

'Sam,' she repeated, testing it out. Then she grinned. 'Nah, Bear fits you better.' She reached for a piece of papaya. 'So, you ever play?'

'Baseball?' I shook my head. 'I'm more of an observer. From the snack station.'

She laughed, and it wasn't mean. 'Come play after your shift. We're short a player, and Tyler's too busy being Tyler to actually be useful.' She lowered her voice. 'Between you and me, I think he forgets you have to actually hit the ball.'

I looked at Tyler, still holding court by the pool chairs, and then back at Maya, who was waiting like this was the most normal thing in the world.

'Sure,' I said, surprised at my own voice. 'Why not?'

And for the first time all summer, I wasn't thinking about how to be someone else. I was just Bear, the guy who served papaya and was about to make a complete fool of himself at baseball—and honestly? That was kind of okay.