The Papaya Incident

I walked into first period feeling like a total zombie. Three hours of TikTok scrolling will do that to you. My hair was doing that weird frizzy thing, and I'd definitely forgotten deodorant.

"Maya!" Chloe waved from her spot at the cool table. "We saved you a seat."

The cool table. Where I'd been sitting for exactly three weeks, thanks to one accidentally viral video of me falling off a skateboard. I was still waiting for them to realize I was actually the most awkward person on Earth.

I slid into the seat beside Chloe, trying to look chill. Like someone who definitely belonged at the cool table and not someone who'd rather be reading fanfic in her room.

"So," Chloe said, lowering her voice like she was about to reveal state secrets. "Jordan's party on Friday. You coming?"

"Oh my god, YES," said McKenzie from across the table. "His parents have this insane pool. And last time, someone got drunk on one wine cooler and threw up in a papaya plant."

I blinked. "A papaya plant?"

"It was wild," Jordan said, appearing behind me. "My mom's super into gardening now. Tropical vibes only."

I'd been to Jordan's house once for a bio project. His mom was obsessed with exotic fruit. The papaya incident wasn't even the weirdest thing that had happened there.

"So you're coming?" Jordan asked me.

I opened my mouth to say yes because that's what Maya 2.0—the cool table version—would say. But then I remembered:

1) I hate parties

2) I can't swim

3) My cat, Pumpkin, had a vet appointment Friday night because he'd been throwing up for days and I was literally spiraling about it

"Actually," I said, and the table went quiet. "I can't. My cat's sick."

For a second, nobody said anything. I braced myself for the laughter, the "you're choosing your CAT over us?" But then Chloe's face softened.

"Oh my god, is he okay? What kind of cat?"

"He's orange and basically the love of my life," I said before I could stop myself. "I've had him since I was seven."

"That's actually so valid," McKenzie said. "I cried for a week when my dog died last year."

"I'll send you pics if Pumpkin's okay," Jordan said seriously. "Also, no pressure, but if you want to come over after the vet, we can just hang. No party vibes. My mom has fresh papaya."

I sat there for a second, processing. No cool table pressure. No pretending to be someone I wasn't. Just... people being normal.

"I'd actually love that," I said, and for the first time in three weeks, I didn't feel like a zombie at all. I just felt like Maya—with a sick cat, potential new friends, and a very strange appreciation for papayas.