Papaya Summer Scheme

The first time I met Cleo's pug, Sir Barksalot, he was wearing a tiny floral harness and trying to eat my shoelaces. This was supposed to be my easy summer gig—dogsitting for the richest girl in our grade while she was at cheer camp. Instead, I was spending my seventeenth year running after a twelve-pound potato with breathing problems.

"Hold him," Cleo's mom had said, handing me Sir Barksalot like he was a fragile package. "He needs his vitamin oil at noon. Don't forget."

The vitamin oil came in a glass bottle that cost more than my entire wardrobe. Cleo's house smelled like money and papaya candles, which was ironic because Cleo refused to eat anything except vanilla protein shakes and the occasional fruit.

"Does he like walks?" I'd asked.

"He prefers being carried," Cleo had replied, dead serious.

On day three, I discovered Cleo's secret Instagram account—@wellness_by_cleo, where she was somehow her own competition. She was selling papaya enzyme supplements to our entire sophomore class, promising they'd help with "bloating and confidence issues." The comments were filled with girls I'd never talked to, all thanking her for changing their lives.

The worst part? The supplements were just crushed papaya candies from the Mexican grocery store downtown, repackaged in pink jars with gold labels. I knew because I'd seen the exact same candy boxes in Cleo's pantry, stacked behind the expensive vitamin oils.

Sir Barksalot snorted at my phone, then threw up on the rug.

I cleaned it up, feeling weirdly responsible. Like, was I supposed to tell someone? But who? The principal? "Hey, so Cleo is running a mini MLM out of her backpack"? Lame. Plus, part of me respected the hustle. Teenage girls were going to feel insecure no matter what—at least Cleo was making bank off it instead of some random TikTok wellness guru.

That afternoon, instead of carrying Sir Barksalot, I clipped on his leash and we actually walked. Three houses down, we ran into Maya from my AP Bio class, who was looking miserable.

"Is that Cleo's dog?" she asked, like she couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, I'm watching him. Why?"

Maya pulled out her phone, showed me @wellness_by_cleo. "I bought like three jars of these papaya things. They taste exactly like the candy my abuela buys."

We sat on the curb while Sir Barksalot investigated someone's mailbox. I told her everything. We laughed so hard the old guy next door came out to see what was happening.

"Want to help me with something?" I asked.

Cleo came home to find us making TikToks with Sir Barksalot—@the_truth_about_papaya, where Maya and I reviewed "wellness products" while her dog modeled various accessories. Our first video hit 10,000 views overnight.

"You're weird," Cleo said, but she was smiling. "But Sir Barksalot looks cute in that bandana."

"Want to be a guest?" I asked. "We're reviewing fake vitamin supplements next."

Cleo sat down between us. "Only if I can keep the ad revenue."