When We Drowned in Papaya Smoothies

Maya's first day as a sophomore felt like being a zombie without the cool backstory parts. Like, she was barely functioning, but at least zombies didn't have to worry about AP Chemistry and their crush noticing their existence.

"You're spacing again," whispered Liam, sliding into the cafeteria seat beside her. "You good?"

Maya jumped, her phone nearly sliding into her tray. "Yeah. Just. You know. Existing."

"Valid." Liam nodded sagely. "Also, why is there papaya on your face?"

She wiped her cheek. Her mom's experimental health phase had struck again — papaya smoothies for breakfast, because apparently regular juice wasn't bougie enough. "Long story."

"Everything's a long story with you." Liam grinned, all fox-like mischief and crooked teeth. "Like how you still haven't talked to Kai even though you've been basically in love with them since seventh grade."

"Shhh!" Maya hissed. "Don't say their name. They'll hear. They have like, supersonic hearing or something."

Kai, at the adjacent table, was laughing with their friends, being effortlessly radiant. A golden sphinx of mysteries and perfect hair. Kai had transferred from some fancy arts school and somehow made being mysterious look like an Olympic sport.

"You know," Liam mused, "the ancient sphinx asked riddles. Kai just sits there being perfect and it's basically the same thing."

Maya snorted. "Did you just reference mythology to talk about a sophomore?"

"I'm cultured."

"You're weird."

"Same difference."

Then Kai looked over. Actually looked at Maya. She felt her stomach drop through the floor, past the basement, into the earth's core. This was it. Her moment. She'd prepared speeches. She'd mentally rehearsed casual greetings. She'd—

"Hey," Kai said. "Your backpack is leaking."

Papaya smoothie. Everywhere. Dripping onto her jeans, pooling beneath her chair, spreading like some fruity biological hazard.

"Oh my god," Maya whispered. This wasn't just embarrassing. This was weaponized embarrassment. This was the kind of trauma that required therapy at thirty.

But then Kai was there with napkins, their fingers brushing Maya's as they helped clean up the sticky disaster. "I have extra water bottles in my locker," they offered. "For the... papaya situation."

"Thanks," Maya managed. Her brain was screaming. Kai knew her name. Kai was helping. Kai was—

"Cool backpack," Kai added, pointing to the sphinx pin she'd thrifted last summer. "I love mythology stuff."

Maya's heart did this embarrassing flutter thing. "Me too."

"We should talk about it sometime," Kai said, all casual-like Maya's entire life wasn't currently dripping in tropical fruit destruction. "Unless, you know, you're too busy being a smoothie disaster."

Maya laughed. And for the first time all day, she didn't feel like a zombie anymore. Just maybe, possibly, entirely seen.