Three Percent and Falling
Maya's **iphone** face glowed in the darkness of her room, the battery icon showing 3%. It had been two hours since she'd texted him. *You up?* Simple. Casual. Not desperate.
But three percent meant one thing: she was **running** out of time and excuses.
Her phone buzzed.
*sorry, fell asleep watching Netflix* - 1:47 AM
Maya stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Everything she wanted to say felt too much. *I was thinking about you* sounded obsessive. *No worries* felt fake.
The next morning, she sat across from Jayden in third period, pretending to be fascinated by her breakfast. Her mom had packed sliced **papaya** again—the fruit her grandma swore would give her "glowing skin and good energy." Maya just thought it tasted like soap.
"What's that?" Jayden asked, nodding at her Tupperware.
"Papaya," she said, then immediately wished she'd said something cool. "It's... it's supposed to be good for you."
"Can I try?"
Her face heated up. "Really? It's kinda—"
He leaned over and popped a piece into his mouth. Maya held her breath. Jayden chewed, considering.
"Not bad," he said, grinning. "Different."
She exhaled. Different. That's what she'd been trying to be all year—not the shy girl who sat in the back, but someone who tried new things, spoke up in class, maybe even told people how she felt.
The bell rang. As everyone grabbed their bags, Jayden lingered by her desk.
"Hey, about your text last night," he said, lowering his voice. "I wasn't actually asleep. I just... didn't know what to say."
Maya's heart did that embarrassing flutter thing.
"But," Jayden continued, "I've been thinking about it. And you." He smiled, crooked and genuine. "A lot."
Later, Maya sat at lunch with her best friend, her phone fully charged and face-down on the table. She took a bite of papaya and thought: okay. Maybe different wasn't so bad after all.
Sometimes the things that feel the weirdest about you—the parts you want to hide—turn out to be exactly what someone else is looking for.