Code Name: Fox

Maya clutched her phone like it was a state secret, which, basically, it was. The group chat was blowing up about Tyler's party Friday, and somehow she'd been left off the invite list. Again.

"You're still obsessing over this?" Liam rolled his eyes from across the lunch table. "It's not that deep."

Easy for him to say. Liam had naturally ascended to the top of the social pyramid sophomore year. Maya was still somewhere near the foundation, trying not to get crushed by the debris of high school hierarchy.

"Whatever," Maya muttered, opening Instagram. "I'm just doing some research."

"Research." Liam snorted. "You mean stalking?"

"It's not stalking if it's public," she said, though they both knew that was a weak argument. Maya had practically turned digital espionage into an extracurricular activity—knowing who sat with whom at lunch, who was dating, who'd suddenly become "interested in photography" right after breaking up with their boyfriend. Information was power, and Maya was tired of being powerless.

That's when she saw it: a new post from Tyler's story. A golden retriever puppy. Caption: "Found this little guy roaming the neighborhood. Anyone know whose dog this is?"

Maya's brain fired like ten synapses at once. That dog. That specific, ridiculously adorable golden retriever. She'd seen it before—on Chloe's Instagram back in August. Chloe, the new girl from Seattle who'd somehow latched onto the popular crowd like she'd been issued a membership card at birth. Chloe, who'd been conspicuously absent from school for three days.

"Wait." Maya sat up straighter. "I know whose dog that is."

"Since when did you become an expert on canines?" Liam asked, but Maya was already typing.

She found it—Chloe's post from months ago. Same dog. Same ridiculously cute face. Only the caption had read: "My family's fostering him until we find him a forever home 🥺"

If Chloe's family had been fostering this dog, and now it was "roaming the neighborhood"...

"Either Chloe's dog escaped, or she straight-up abandoned it," Maya said, piecing it together. "And if she abandoned it, maybe something's actually wrong? Like, actually wrong?"

"Or," Liam said, "you're jumping to conclusions because you're obsessed with being included."

"I'm not—" Maya started, then stopped. Was he right? Was she just manufacturing drama because she felt excluded?

Her phone buzzed. A DM from Tyler: "Hey, you're Chloe's friend in English, right? You have her number? Her parents are trying to reach her, nobody's heard from her since Tuesday."

Maya stared at the screen. All those hours she'd spent spying, gathering intel, feeling pathetic about not being invited to parties. Turns out, being observant wasn't the same as being a stalker. It was something else entirely.

It was paying attention.

"I have her address," Maya said, standing up. "We're going over there."

"We?" Liam raised an eyebrow.

"You're coming too, fox," she said, using the nickname she'd given him freshman year when he'd somehow talked his way out of detention three times in a row. "Consider it your community service for being annoying."

Liam sighed, but he was already grabbing his backpack. "Fine. But if we get arrested, I'm telling them it was your idea."

"Deal." Maya smiled, finally feeling like she was exactly where she needed to be.