The Papaya Protocol

Leo wasn't technically a **spy**, but at sixteen, he'd basically mastered the art of social reconnaissance. His secret weapon? The boring-as-hell shift at his family's bodega every Saturday, when half the school rolled in for snacks after the game. Leo leaned against the counter, pretending to care about sports scores on the TV while mentally filing away intel:

Maya and Tyler definitely broke up. Again.

Sophie from AP Chem was now hanging with the theater crowd.

Someone's older brother was selling fake IDs behind the gym.

"Leo! Are you even listening?" his mom yelled from the back. "The **cable** company is coming at three. Fix your room before they see that disaster."

He groaned. The cable installation was today's catastrophe. His room looked like a tornado had hit a Radio Shack—tangled wires everywhere from his "setup" (three monitors and way too much RGB lighting because, honestly, aesthetic).

"Working on it!" Leo lied, grabbing another bag of chips for a customer.

That's when Sophie walked in. Sophie, who sat two rows behind him in homeroom. Sophie, who somehow made oversized hoodies look like actual fashion. She headed straight to the exotic fruit section, studying the selections like they contained the secrets of the universe.

"Hey," Leo said, suddenly interested in organizing the already-organized candy display. "What's up?"

Sophie held up a **papaya** like it was an alien artifact. "Have you ever tried this?"

"What, the papaya?" Leo shrugged. "My mom eats it with lime and chili powder. It's... an experience."

"An experience?" Sophie's eyebrows shot up. "Good or bad?"

"Depends if you're feeling adventurous."

"Challenge accepted." Sophie dropped it into her basket. Their fingers brushed, and Leo's brain short-circuited. This was NOT in the reconnaissance report.

"So," she continued, like she hadn't just sent his heart rate into orbit, "I heard you're the person to talk to if someone wants to know what's actually happening at school."

Leo's face burned. Of course. His reputation preceded him.

"I... I just hear things."

"Cool." Sophie paid for her papaya, then lingered. "Hey, my cable's been messed up for weeks. Think you could help?"

Leo almost laughed out loud. The cable guy's son, getting asked for cable help. By Sophie.

"Yeah," he said, trying to sound casual. "I've got some experience with that."

"Sweet." She wrote her number on his receipt. "Text me."

Leo stood there, receipt in hand, as the bell chimed her exit. His phone buzzed—three messages from his usual sources asking for the latest gossip. But suddenly, being the school's information broker felt small. He had bigger things to worry about.

Like how the hell he was going to clean his room before three. And what to text Sophie. And whether papayas actually tasted good or if this was all some elaborate test.

He pulled out his phone, opened a new message, and typed:

*So about that cable situation...*