Ripening

Maya stared at the group chat blowing up her iphone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Pool party at Jake's house. Everyone's going.

She wasn't ready. Not for the swimsuit she'd outgrown since last summer, not for the way Jake's older brother Tyler always looked right through her, and definitely not for the papaya tree her abuela had been enthusiastically cultivating in their backyard since spring.

"Mira, mija," Abuela had said that morning, cradling a perfect oblong fruit like it was gold. "This one, it is ready. Like you."

Gross. Maya had rolled her eyes, but now, standing at the party's edge with her phone buzzing in her hand, she thought about it. Growing into yourself wasn't supposed to feel this awkward.

"Maya!" Chloe yelled from the pool deck, waving her over. "Stop lurking!"

Her golden retriever, Buster, would've never let her get away with being this antisocial. He'd be nudging her leg, demanding she join the fun. But Buster was home, probably sleeping in a sunbeam.

The water beckoned—blue and glittering and full of people who seemed to know exactly who they were. Jake cannonballed in, sending waves crashing over the edge. Everyone laughed.

Maya's fingers tightened around her phone. She could leave. Text her mom, say she felt sick. Go home and slice papaya with Abuela and pretend sophomore year wasn't coming.

Then she saw Tyler.

He was standing alone by the fence, frowning at something on his phone. Not being Tyler-the-senior-star-athlete everyone wanted him to be. Just being some guy who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Maya took a breath.

"Hey." She walked up, heart hammering. "Wanna get out of here? My abuela grows papayas in her backyard. They're actually pretty good if you give them a chance."

He looked up, startled. Then something like relief crossed his face.

"Yeah," he said, pocketing his phone. "I'd like that."

Maybe Abuela was right. Maybe some things, like fruit and people, just needed time to ripen into themselves.