Summer of Papaya Pit Stops

Marcus adjusted his cap, the brim catching the afternoon sun as he leaned against the chain-link fence. Baseball practice had ended two hours ago, but he was still here, watching the varsity team scrimmage without him.

"Yo, Earth to Marcus!" A papaya-colored Mazda rolled up beside the curb, bass thumping. It was Leo, his best friend since sixth grade, grinning like he knew something Marcus didn't.

"My dad said I need more vitamin D," Marcus muttered, kicking at a loose pebble. "For my bones."

Leo snorted. "Your bones are fine, bro. You're sulking because Coach benched you."

He wasn't wrong. Marcus had been riding the pine all season, his batting average dipping lower than his confidence. Meanwhile, Leo — who'd never picked up a bat in his life — was living his best life, working at that fancy health food store downtown and somehow becoming friends with everyone.

"Get in," Leo said. "We're going on an adventure."

"Where?"

"The beach. I stole my sister's car. And I have papaya."

Marcus rolled his eyes but climbed in anyway. The AC felt like salvation against the sticky June heat.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing at the edge of the water, shoes in hand, the Pacific stretching infinite before them. Leo produced a whole papaya from his backpack like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"My coworker gave me the hookup," Leo said, hacking into the fruit with a pocket knife. "It's supposed to be, like, a superfood or something. More vitamin C than oranges."

"Since when do you care about vitamins?"

"Since I realized everyone our age is obsessed with being healthy but nobody actually knows what that means." Leo handed him a slice. "Try it. It tastes like summer."

Marcus hesitated. The papaya looked alien — bright orange flesh, black seeds like something out of a sci-fi movie. But Leo was watching him with that expectant look he always got when he discovered something new.

He took a bite. Sweet. Weirdly musky. Nothing like he expected.

"Well?" Leo asked.

"It's... different."

"That's code for 'I hate it.'"

"No, I mean —" Marcus took another bite. "It's not bad. Just not what I thought."

Leo laughed, the sound carrying over the waves. "That's the point, dude. Everything's different than you think it'll be. Even baseball."

Marcus stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've been so busy worrying about starting that you forgot why you started playing in the first place." Leo gestured at the ocean. "This water doesn't care about your batting average. Neither does papaya. Neither do I, honestly."

"Thanks, bestie."

"Anytime, bro." Leo punched his shoulder. "Now finish your fruit. We have to get back before my sister realizes her car is gone."

Marcus took one more bite, letting the weird sweetness fill his mouth. Maybe Leo was right. Maybe he'd been overthinking everything.

"Hey Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for stealing the car."

Leo's grin widened. "Anytime, my dude. Anytime."