The Papaya Incident

Marcus stood behind the bleachers, his phone clutched like a guilty secret. He wasn't exactly a spy, but technically, sneaking photos of Jordan's baseball practice from behind the equipment shed counted as borderline stalking behavior.

"You're being weird," his best friend Leo had told him earlier. "Just talk to him like a normal person."

Normal people didn't accidentally memorize Jordan's batting average. Normal people didn't know Jordan always wore the same lucky socks to games. And normal people definitely didn't bring papaya—a fruit Marcus had never even tried—to baseball practice just because he'd overhead Jordan mention it once.

The plan had seemed flawless at 2 AM. Show up with papaya. casually mention how it was basically the perfect pre-game snack. Bond over exotic fruit admiration. Friendship achieved.

Now, standing there with a rapidly-softening papaya in his backpack, Marcus realized the plan was actually terrible.

Jordan rounded third base, laughing at something his teammate said. His cleats kicked up dirt. Sunlight caught the silver chain around his neck. Marcus's heart did that embarrassing fluttery thing it always did.

"Yo!"

Marcus jumped, nearly dropping his backpack. Jordan stood five feet away, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his jersey. He was even close up.

"You're Marcus, right? From English class?"

"Uh. Yeah. Hi."

"You been here a while?" Jordan's grin was unfairly lopsided. "I saw you behind the shed earlier. No shame in watching practice, bro."

Heat crawled up Marcus's neck. So much for his spy skills.

"I was just..." Words failed him. His hand found the papaya in his backpack. "I brought this."

He held it out like an offering.

Jordan stared at it. "Is that... papaya?"

"Yeah. You mentioned it once. That you liked it."

Jordan's eyes widened. "Bro, no way. My abuela literally sent me some from home yesterday, but my mom threw it out because she said it looked 'weird.' I've been craving papaya all week."

Marcus's brain short-circuited. "You want it?"

"Do I want it?" Jordan laughed. "Marcus, you're officially my favorite person. Come sit with the team. We'll share it."

As they sat on the bleachers, splitting the papaya with Jordan's pocketknife, Marcus caught Leo's gaze from across the field. His friend gave him a thumbs-up.

Sometimes, he decided, being weird wasn't the worst thing in the world.