Summer Static

The cable had been flickering all afternoon, pixelating everyone's faces into glitched monsters at Maya's end-of-school blowout. Not that anyone noticed. Too busy pretending to be someone they weren't.

I ended up on the back porch with Carter, who'd somehow become the most popular kid since he'd hit that growth spurt in April. He was spinning a **baseball** between his fingers like a nervous habit, watching the middle schoolers cannonball into the pool below.

"My dad says high school's gonna eat us alive," he said, like it was some badge of honor. "Like, we're gonna have to step it up. No more kid stuff."

I nodded like I agreed, but inside I was screaming. My summers were always helping my mom at her fruit stand downtown, selling weird produce nobody could pronounce. Last week someone asked if dragon fruit was actually from dragons. I'd said yes. They'd bought three.

The screen door slapped open. Maya's cousin Leo stumbled out, holding a platter of fruit like it was radioactive. "Yo, who wants **papaya**? My aunt went full H-Mart on us."

Carter made a face. "What even is that?"

"It's..." I started, then stopped. Defended it too hard, I'd look like a loser. Pretended not to know, I'd fake my way through being someone I wasn't. Again.

"It's literally just fruit, bro." Leo shrugged, popping a slice in his mouth. "Tastes like melon had a baby with a flower. Kinda based, actually."

Based. Carter tried to hide it, but I saw his confusion. This was the guy who was supposed to be ready for high school next month, and he didn't know a six-letter slang word from TikTok.

I reached for a slice. "It's actually my mom's favorite. She sells it downtown."

Carter looked at me like I'd grown a second head. Then, slowly, like testing ice on a frozen pond, "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. It's not that weird once you try it."

He took one. Chewed. Made a face. Then shrugged. "Okay, maybe I was being a jerk. It's kinda good, actually."

The cable inside finally gave up completely, bathing the house in sudden darkness. For a second, nobody moved. Then Leo started laughing, and Carter did too, and somehow I was laughing with them—not at them, not trying to be anyone else.

We're gonna be fine next year, I realized. Probably not because we're cool or ready or whatever adults think teenagers need to be. But because at least some of us are starting to figure out who we actually are. Even if that's the kid who likes papaya.