The Papaya Protocol

My freshman year, I developed The Protocol. Step one: enter cafeteria scanning for empty seats. Step two: sit before anyone notices. Step three: unpack lunch so nobody sees what's inside.

But today, I'd failed.

The papaya sat in my Tupperware like a radioactive alien artifact, its neon orange flesh practically glowing under the cafeteria's brutal fluorescent lights. While everyone else traded Doritos and Gatorade like contraband, I was stuck slicing tropical fruit with a plastic fork.

"What IS that?" Chelsea materialized beside my table, her squad trailing her like well-dressed ducklings.

"Papaya," I said, wishing I could dissolve. "My mom's into—"

"Your mom packs you PAPAYA?" Her laugh was sharp, cutting through the lunchroom chatter. "That's actually kind of adorable."

Adorable. The universal teen girl insult code for: you are twelve years old and also possibly a human cupcake.

I was saved by the bell—literally. Mr. Harrison waddled over in his faded polo, phone in hand.

"Maya, your grandmother's on the line. Something about forgetting your vitamin?"

My face burned. Chelsea's squad exploded.

"Vitamin?" "Like, for kids?" "The gummy ones?"

"They're NOT gummy vitamins!" I protested, but they'd already moved on, their laughter trailing behind them like expensive perfume.

That night, I swiped my mom's phone and texted Jake—Chelsea's ex, currently sitting at the "weird table" with the theater kids and that guy who brought a stuffed bear to school every day.

Your bear friend eat papaya too?

What.

At lunch. Tomorrow. Bring papaya.

You're weird.

I know.

The next day, Jake sat across from me, papaya in hand. We ate our weird fruit in companionable silence while Chelsea stared, openmouthed, from three tables away.

"So," Jake said around a mouthful, "about those gummy vitamins..."

"First one's free," I said, "after that, you gotta bring your own tropical fruit."

He grinned. "Deal."

The bear guy high-fived me on the way out. Sometimes, I thought, the weird lunch table was exactly where you were supposed to end up all along.