The Papaya Incident

Maya's vintage orange trucker hat was supposed to be her armor. Freshman year at Northwood High, and she'd already calculated exactly thirty-seven ways to be invisible. The hat—which she'd stolen from her dad's closet—was supposed to be item number thirty-eight.

"You gonna eat that?"

Jake Chen, who Maya had been lowkey crushing on since orientation, pointed at the wedge of papaya on her lunch tray. The exotic fruit her health-nut mom had packed.

"Uh, yeah?" Maya lied. She'd never actually tried papaya. It looked like something that would taste like perfume.

"Bet you won't eat the whole thing," Jake said, grinning. Those annoyingly perfect teeth. "Five bucks says you can't."

Her friends were watching. This was it. The moment. Either she ate the weird fruit and possibly died of embarrassment, or she admitted she was basic and had never tried papaya.

"You're on," Maya said, like an idiot.

The first bite wasn't bad. The second bite was manageable. By bite three, Maya was fully committed to the bit. She was twelve dollars richer and the new "papaya girl" of the cafeteria—until her stomach decided otherwise.

She started running toward the bathroom, orange hat flying, completely abandoning her dignity. Could this day get any worse?

But then she heard footsteps behind her.

"Hey, Papaya Girl!"

Jake. Of course.

"That was actually kinda legendary," he said, catching up. "Most people would've bailed. You committed."

Maya's face burned. "I'm never eating papaya again."

"Fair." He paused. "Hey, my band's playing this house party on Friday. You should come. Wear the hat."

She'd planned to spend Friday watching Netflix and overthinking every interaction she'd had all week, but...

"Maybe," Maya said, trying to play it cool.

"Cool." He jogged backward toward the cafeteria. "Just don't bring papaya. We've got a reputation."

Maya touched the brim of her orange hat. Maybe being visible wasn't the worst thing in the world. Even if it meant being known as the girl who almost threw up papaya in front of her crush.

Small wins.