The Papaya Incident

The summer before sophomore year, Chloe's parents decided to "reconnect with nature" — which meant dragging her to some cabin in the woods where WiFi died like, immediately. Her iPhone had been reduced to a glorified camera, its battery draining faster than her will to live.

Then there was Lucas, the boy next door to the cabin, with hair that defied gravity and a smile that made her stomach do weird gymnastics. He'd invited her to the swimming hole, and she'd spent twenty minutes agonizing over her swimsuit choice before settling on the one that didn't make her feel like a total potato.

"You've never had papaya?" Lucas asked, absolutely judgment-free, as they sat on the edge of the pier, feet dangling in the water. He held out a slice of the orange fruit, glistening in the afternoon sun.

Chloe shook her head. "My parents are strictly apple-and-banana people. Safe choices, you know?"

"Live a little, Schmidt," he grinned, using her last name like he'd been doing it forever.

She took a bite. Sweet, musky, completely unfamiliar — and suddenly she was fifteen and eating exotic fruit with a boy who made her laugh until her ribs hurt, and everything felt possible.

"So, I have this theory," Lucas said, leaning back on his elbows. "About that bear everyone saw last week."

"The bear that, like, destroyed the Hendersons' trash cans?"

"Yeah, but hear me out — what if it wasn't a bear? What if it was Mrs. Henderson sleepwalking?"

Chloe snorted papaya everywhere. "You're terrible."

"I'm observant,"nhe corrected. "Also, I saved a screenshot of your Instagram story from last week. The one where you're lip-syncing to that Taylor song? Phenomenal stuff."

She groaned. "You saw that?"

"Your iPhone battery died halfway through, but the damage was done."

But he was smiling at her like she was something special, and for the first time all summer, Chloe didn't miss her phone at all. She was just a girl with papaya sticky fingers, sitting by the water with a boy who somehow made feeling awkward feel like the most natural thing in the world.

"Live a little," she whispered to herself, and leaned in to wipe a smudge of fruit from his chin.

Some summers change you. This one? This one tasted like sweet papaya and possibility.