Papaya Summer's Last Night

The papaya sat on the paper plate like some alien experiment gone wrong. Maya held it between her thumb and forefinger, skeptical as hell.

"Dude, just try it," Kian said, leaning against the kitchen counter with that infuriatingly chill vibe. "It's literally fruit. Not poison."

Maya's other best friend, Leo, was already halfway through his second slice, making these obscene yum noises that made Maya want to both laugh and throw something at him. But that was Leo – never met a food he wouldn't aggressively hype.

"Okay but WHY does it look like fleshy salmon though" Maya said, not even bothering to make it a question.

"That's literally what I said!" Jenna appeared beside her, miraculously materializing as always. Jenna, who'd been her friend since seventh grade, back when they both thought Abercrombie & Fitch was peak culture. Now they stood here, three months from graduation, at some random house party that felt like everyone's last chance to be teenagers together.

Maya finally took a bite. Weird. Sweet in an unexpectedly complicated way. Not bad, just... different. Like realizing someone you've known forever might actually be a whole different person.

She glanced at her palm – sweaty, obviously, because apparently her body had decided tonight was the night to revert to middle school levels of awkward. It had been two hours since That Thing happened with Jordan, and her hands still hadn't gotten the memo that she was fine. Totally fine. So what if Jordan had suggested they should "take a break" from whatever this was? So what if it happened right before she had to be at this party and pretend everything was normal?

"You doing okay?" Kian asked, dropping the chill act for like, three seconds.

Maya opened her mouth to say yeah, obviously, why wouldn't she be, when suddenly the back door flew open and Jordan walked in with that new transfer girl, laughing at something she'd said, and Maya felt it – that hollow drop in her stomach that reminded her of the first time she realized her parents were just people who didn't actually know everything.

"Bullshit," she whispered, surprising herself.

"What?" Jenna asked.

"Nothing. Just... everything."

But then Kian was nudging her, passing her another slice of papaya like it was some kind of peace offering, and Leo was doing his terrible robot dance because someone had put on early 2000s throwbacks, and suddenly the weight in her chest felt lighter. Bearable. Maybe that's what growing up was – not avoiding the hard parts, but finding people who made them easier to carry.

She took another bite of papaya. Weirdly, it tasted better this time.