The Papaya Pact

Maya's phone buzzed. Third streak notification in five minutes.

"You're actually addicted," Jordan said, dropping onto the bench beside her. He held out a papaya like it was a peace offering—or a weapon. "Try it. It's literally life-changing."

Maya stared at the orange flesh. "I'm good."

"Your loss." Jordan took a massive bite. Juice dripped down his chin. "So, about Friday."

Here it came. The invitation. Or the rejection. Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when Jordan was near—a flutter, then a drop, like a goldfish she'd won at a carnival third grade that had lasted exactly four days. She'd named him Bubbles and cried for a week when he floated upside down.

"Friday?" she managed, casual. Cool.

"Becca's party." Jordan swallowed. "Everyone's going."

Maya's heart did something dangerous. "Oh. Cool."

"You coming?"

She hesitated. Last party she'd stood in a corner for two hours pretending to check nonexistent texts on her iPhone while people danced around her like she was invisible. But this was Jordan asking. Jordan, with his papaya-stained smile and the way he always sat next to her during lunch even though he could sit anywhere.

"Maybe," she said. "If I'm not busy."

"Cool." Jordan nodded. He had papaya in his teeth. "Cool, cool, cool."

They sat there. The silence stretched. Maya could hear her own heartbeat. She could hear the fake water fountain bubbling behind them, the one where people threw coins for wishes that never came true.

"I hate parties too," Jordan said suddenly.

Maya turned. "What?"

"Becca's parties. They're always—" He made a face. "A lot."

"Then why are you going?"

He shrugged. "Social suicide not to. But, like." He looked at her. "We could go together? As in, both hate it together? Not—together together. Unless—"

Maya's phone buzzed again. Another streak. She didn't check it.

"I'm in," she said.

Jordan's grin was real this time. "Papaya treaty?"

"What?"

"If one of us wants to leave, we text the other a papaya emoji. Deal?"

Maya laughed. "Deal."

She'd explain the goldfish thing later. How sometimes you have to swim in circles before you find the way out. How sometimes the thing that looks like the end is just the beginning.

Her phone buzzed. She ignored it.

Some streaks were worth breaking. Some were just starting.