Poolside Papaya Kings

The papaya tasted like soap and regret, which pretty much summed up my whole summer. I stood by the snack table at Sarah Chen's pool party, clutching my red Solo cup like it was a life preserver, watching the cool kids splash around in the water like they owned the chlorine.

I wasn't supposed to be here. I wasn't even supposed to be invited. But somehow my best friend Maya had convinced Sarah that inviting me was a good idea, and now I was stuck at the party of the year, wearing swim trunks that were two seasons out of style and nursing a fruit punch that was 90% disappointment.

"Hey, farm boy." Jason Miller appeared behind me, dripping wet and radiating that particular energy that made my shoulders tighten. "Nice trunks. Did your grandma pick those out?"

The group behind him snickered. Jason was the biggest bull at Northwood High, and not in the livestock sense. He just plowed through people's confidence for sport.

"They're fine," I mumbled, suddenly finding the fake-marble pattern of the patio fascinating.

"You gonna swim or just stand there looking traumatized?" He stepped closer. "My cat has more backbone than you."

That's when I heard it—a splash, followed by screaming.

We all turned. Sarah's prize-winning Siamese, Princess Fluffington III (yes, really), was frantically paddling toward the deep end, looking absolutely betrayed by gravity and poor decision-making skills. The cat must have slipped through the screen door again.

Nobody moved. They all just stood there, phones out, recording instead of helping. Jason laughed.

"Someone grab her!" Sarah shrieked from the diving board, frozen.

I didn't think. I just moved—dropped my cup, vaulted over the lounge chair, and dove in.

The water shocked my system cold. The cat was heavier than I expected, claws digging into my forearm as I hauled us both toward the shallow end. When we broke the surface, Princess Fluffington III shook herself off like I'd personally inconvenienced her, but she was alive.

Silence. Then Sarah was there, taking her cat, practically in tears. "Oh my god, thank you, I—"

"Whatever." I pushed wet hair out of my eyes, grabbing a towel. "Just keep her away from the pool."

Jason was staring at me, mouth slightly open. The phones had lowered. The dynamic had shifted, and they all knew it.

"Nice trunks," Jason's friend Marcus said, but this time it sounded different. "Where'd you get them?"

"Old Navy," I said, grabbing another slice of papaya from the fruit bowl. "Two years ago. They were on clearance."

Maya appeared beside me, grinning like she'd planned the whole thing. "So," she said, bumping my shoulder. "Having fun yet?"

I looked at my wet trunks. At the cat now curled indignantly in a beach chair. At Jason, who'd suddenly found something very interesting to look at on his phone.

"Actually," I said, finishing the papaya, which suddenly tasted exactly like victory. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I am."