The Papaya Protocol

Marcus's house still had basic cable while everyone else at Northwood High had moved to streaming. It was basically social suicide.

But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was Barnaby — his family's ancient golden retriever with zero chill — who'd somehow developed a talent for tripping over the coaxial cable at the most critical moments. Like right now, when Sofia from AP Bio was finally coming over for a "study session" that Marcus had been plotting since September.

"You like exotic fruit, right?" Marcus asked, gesturing dramatically at the papaya he'd spent twenty minutes selecting from the fancy grocery store. His mom had raised her eyebrows but said nothing. "It's super sophisticated."

Sofia nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. She was wearing this oversized orange sweater that made everything about her seem warmer, more approachable than she ever was at school where she moved through corridors like she owned them.

"Yeah, I love papaya," she said, and Marcus internally fist-pumped because his research had paid off. "My abuela grows them in her backyard."

Of course she did. Because Sofia was actually cultured, not假装 cultured like Marcus with his grocery store papaya and basic cable setup.

They sat on the couch. Barnaby waddled in, spotted Sofia, and immediately decided this was his moment. The dog launched himself toward her with zero coordination and maximum enthusiasm, his back paw catching the cable. The TV flickered — mid-2000s rom com interrupted by static.

"Barnaby, NO!" Marcus groaned, face burning.

But Sofia was laughing. Not mean laughing, but actual genuine laughter that made her nose crinkle.

"Your dog is chaotic," she said, scratching Barnaby behind the ears as he sprawled dramatically across her feet. "I love it."

"He's a menace," Marcus muttered, but some tension in his chest loosened.

She reached for a piece of papaya. "You know, you don't have to pretend, right? Like, you don't have to exotic-fruit impress me. I came over because I wanted to hang out with you. Not your fruit collection."

Marcus's face burned hotter. Because she knew. She'd known the whole time.

"Basic cable and all?" he asked, halfway between joking and terrified.

"Basic cable and all," she said, popping a piece of papaya in her mouth. "Besides, I haven't seen this movie in years. It's actually kind of nostalgic."

Barnaby sighed contentedly at their feet. The cable remained connected against all odds. And Marcus finally stopped trying so hard to be interesting, which turned out was exactly what made him interesting enough.