Papaya Summer Rules

The pool party at Jessica's house was literally the most important social event of freshman year, and I was standing there holding a red cup like it was a grenade. My chest felt tight.

"Try it," Jessica said, nodding at the fruit punch. "My mom made it."

I stared at the floating chunks. "What's that yellow stuff?"

"Papaya," she said, like I should know. "It's exotic. You've seriously never had it?"

My face burned. We didn't do exotic in my house. We did apples and bananas. Things that came in five-pound bags from Costco.

"It looks weird," someone muttered.

I reached in, grabbed a chunk, and ate it before I could chicken out. The texture was like soft butter, the flavor somewhere between a mango and a melon, but different. Actually good. "It's legit," I said, and everyone looked at me like I'd just revealed a secret superpower.

That's when Alex Rodriguez did a cannonball off the diving board, sending a wave of water over everyone. His back was shredded — scratches everywhere.

"Dude, what happened?" someone asked.

"Bear," Alex said, shaking water from his hair. "Up at Pine Lake campground. Straight up charged me while I was fishing."

"No way."

"Way. I threw my fishing pole and booked it. Left everything. My dad's gonna kill me."

Everyone was impressed. Bear encounters were basically currency at our school. I'd never even seen a bear. My summers were swimming lessons and library programs.

"You should've seen it," Alex continued. "Massive. Glowing eyes in the flashlight beam."

My phone buzzed. My mom. She'd want me home soon. I'd spent the whole party standing in the shallow end, gripping the cup like I'd drown if I let go. Still hadn't gone swimming at my first pool party. Still hadn't really talked to anyone except for answering questions about fruit.

The papaya had been brave. The rest of me? Not so much.

Alex caught my eye. "Hey, you gonna swim or what?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I'm gonna swim."

I set down the cup, walked to the edge of the deep end, and jumped. The water swallowed me whole, cool and perfect and terrifying all at once. I kicked upward, broke the surface, gasped, and somewhere in that moment between underwater and air, I decided: sophomore year was going to be different. No more standing on the edges. No more playing it safe.

"Watch out for bears," Alex called, laughing.

"Watch out for papaya," I shot back, and for the first time all night, I actually felt like I belonged.