Smoothie Roulette

Maya's summer uniform included the most hideous hat in existence - a neon green visor that screamed "I make minimum wage." She adjusted it for the fiftieth time, sighing as she stared at the tropical fruit display. Her first day at Island Breeze Smoothies, and she already felt like a fraud.

"You gonna try the papaya?" The question came from Jordan, the too-cool senior whoseマン bun defied gravity. He grinned like he knew something she didn't.

"I'm good," Maya lied. She'd never even seen a papaya in real life. Growing up in a town where the most exotic thing was the Thai place that everyone pretended to understand, tropical fruits might as well have been from Mars.

"Total bull." A girl in a crop top rolled her eyes at Maya's hesitation. "You're scared it'll be gross."

The girl's friends giggled. Maya's face burned. This was exactly why she'd taken the job - to stop being the girl who hid in the back of classrooms, who'd never once raised her hand, who'd rather fail than speak up. So far, mission fail.

"Watch this." Jordan sliced into the papaya with practiced ease. "First time's weird, but then..." He held out a chunk.

Maya's phone buzzed. Her mom: "Your cousin's coming home from the army! We're doing a welcome dinner! 🐻" The bear emoji made her smile. Her big cousin, her hero, the person who'd taught her to be brave enough to apply for this job.

She looked at Jordan. At the papaya. At the giggling girls watching her like hawks.

"Fine." Maya popped the fruit into her mouth.

Weird didn't cover it. But then - sweetness. Something unfamiliar and bright and suddenly, she got it. This was what being sixteen was supposed to feel like. Trying things. Looking ridiculous sometimes. Living.

"Well?" Jordan raised an eyebrow.

Maya adjusted her hideous visor. "Not total bull. But don't tell anyone I said that."