Static Summer Signal

The coaxial cable dangled from the ceiling like a dead snake, and honestly? Same mood.

Working at Sal's Bodega wasn't exactly how sixteen-year-old Maya planned to spend her July, but her parents had been clear about "building character" and "learning responsibility" and other words that translated to: you're not sitting home binge-watching Netflix all summer.

"Yo Maya, you gonna fix that TV or what?" Sal called from the front.

"On it, Sal."

She dragged the ladder across the linoleum, her palm already sweaty against the metal. Outside the storefront window, she could see her friends Jenna and Carlos walking by, laughing about something that definitely wasn't climbing ladders to fix ancient televisions that still broadcast in 480p. They'd probably just gotten back from the pool. They probably didn't smell like cleaning supplies and broken electronics.

"Whatever," she muttered, screwing the cable back into place. The TV flickered to life - some telenovela she'd never heard of, dramatic music swelling.

A cat - this mangy orange thing that lived behind the dumpster - meowed at her through the glass door.

"Feel you, buddy," she said. "We're both trapped in here."

The door chimed.

Maya froze. It was HIM. Ethan from her English class, the one whose hair somehow looked good even when it was messy, the one who'd actually laughed at her joke about Gatsby being the original obsessed fanboy.

"Hey," he said. "You work here?"

"Uh, yeah. Just building character and whatnot." She wanted to die immediately.

"Cool." He grabbed a papaya from the display near the register. "My mom makes me get these for smoothies. Have you ever had one?"

"No? Are they actually good or is this just another thing adults pretend is delicious?"

He laughed - actually laughed, not the polite kind. "Honestly? I think they taste like someone mixed a melon with soap. But my mom swears by them."

"Bold choice to keep buying them then."

"What can I say, I'm a rebel who lives dangerously."

Maya felt something fluttering in her chest that definitely wasn't there when she was restocking soda cans.

"Well," Ethan said, paying for the soap-fruit. "See you at school?"

"Yeah. See you."

He was halfway out the door when Maya's brain caught up with her mouth.

"Hey Ethan!"

He turned back.

"Running late for something or are you just..." What was she even saying? "Never mind."

But he was smiling now. "Nah, I'm good. You?"

"Yeah," she said, and actually meant it. "Yeah, I'm good."

The TV behind her blared dramatic Spanish dialogue. The orange cat yawned outside. Sal was yelling about inventory in the back. And Maya, for the first time all summer, didn't feel like she was missing out on anything at all.