Poolside Papaya Summer

The heat hit me like a wall as I stepped through the sliding glass door. Jacob's pool party. The invite list had somehow expanded to include everyone from the varsity swim team to that sophomore who always drew anime in the back of chem class. I adjusted my t-shirt, suddenly self-conscious about the Target brand splashed across my chest.

"Yo, Marcus!" Jacob called from the pool, doing that thing where he flicked water from his hair like he was in a shampoo commercial. "Get in here! The water's actually chill for once."

I pretended not to notice the way everyone's eyes shifted toward me. Half the school was here. The other half was probably at Sarah's party, which I'd definitely not been invited to. Not that I was counting.

"I'm good," I said, moving toward the snack table like it was my intended destination all along. That's when I saw her.

Maya. The one who'd sat behind me in English since freshman year. The one I'd somehow never had the courage to actually talk to. She was standing by the **palm** tree in the corner of the yard, awkwardly holding a plate with what looked like...

"Is that **papaya**?" I heard myself asking before my brain could veto the question.

She jumped like I'd startled her. "Oh! Yeah. My mom's obsessed with farmers markets now. She thinks it's a 'superfood.'" She made air quotes with her free hand. "Honestly, it tastes like someone mixed a melon with a potato."

I laughed, and she smiled back, and something in my chest did that weird fluttery thing that movies always talk about but I'd never actually felt until right now.

"I'll try it," I said, because apparently my brain had completely stopped functioning. "If you promise not to make fun of me if I hate it."

"Deal." She held out a piece. Our fingers brushed. My face burned hotter than the July sun.

The **papaya** was... interesting. Not bad, exactly, but not good either. Something you'd eat and then think about for three days afterward.

"So..." I said, because silence felt dangerous. "How's your summer been?"

And we talked. Actually talked. About her mom's sudden obsession with obscure fruits, about my terrible attempt at learning guitar, about how weird it was that we'd sat behind each other for two years and never said more than 'here's the homework.' The party noise faded into the background.

That's when her **cat** theory came up.

"Okay, hear me out," she said, eyes bright. "Cats definitely know things they're not telling us. Like my neighbor's cat? It stares at me through the window like it's planning something."

"That's not ominous at all," I grinned. "What's the endgame here? Feline world domination?"

"You'll see. When the **cat** uprising happens, I'm saying 'I told you so.'"

I was mid-laugh when the mood shifted. Jason, the guy who'd made my life hell in seventh grade and never really stopped, swaggered over.

"Maya," he said, completely ignoring me. "Wanna play **pool** volleyball? We need one more."

I felt myself shrink. Of course. This was the part where I disappeared.

But Maya didn't even look at the **pool**. She looked at me.

"I'm good," she said. "Marcus and I were just talking about the inevitable cat apocalypse."

Jason's face did this confused flicker thing. "Wait, who—" He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. "Oh. Marcus. Right."

"Yeah," Maya said, her voice suddenly sharp. "Marcus. He's funny. You should try talking to him sometime instead of just—you know." She gestured vaguely at his entire vibe.

The silence stretched. Jason opened his mouth, closed it, then just... walked away.

"That was—" I started.

"Bull**shit**," Maya finished, shaking her head. "He's been giving you grief for years and nobody ever calls him on it. Whatever."

"You noticed?"

"Everyone notices, Marcus." Her expression softened. "Most people are just cowards about it."

The rest of the party blurred. We stayed by the snack table until the sun went down, until Jacob's mom started pointedly looking at her watch, until the **pool** lights flickered on. Neither of us went swimming.

"Text me?" she asked as I was leaving.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound casual. "About the cat apocalypse. Obviously."

She laughed. "Obviously."

I walked home under streetlights I'd walked under a thousand times before, but everything looked different. Brighter. Maybe papayas weren't so bad after all. Maybe this summer wasn't going to be the same old story. Maybe I'd finally found someone who saw me.