Dead Dog Paddle Chronicles
The pool party was supposed to be lit, but honestly? I was basically a **zombie** moving through the motions, ghosting through the crowd with my solo cup filled with tap water because alcohol wasn't exactly my thing. Everyone looked the same — same cropped tank tops, same curated feeds, same basic conversations about college apps and who was "talking" to who. Sometimes I wondered if I was just following the script too.
Then I saw him by the edge of the woods, pale and sharp against the twilight. Not a person — an actual **fox**, its coat glowing like fire in the dying light. Nobody else noticed. They were all too busy documenting their "vibes" for Instagram. But I stood there, frozen, watching something wild in a world of domesticated everything.
"Hey, you coming in?" It was Tyler, the self-appointed **bull** of our grade, all muscle and zero chill. He'd been eyeing me all summer, that look that said I was something to be claimed. Like I was a prize and not a person with actual thoughts about my future.
"In a minute," I said, but my voice shook. The fox vanished into the trees.
The **water** looked different tonight. Not scary, exactly — I'd been swimming since I was tiny — but deep in a way that made my chest tight. Like maybe if I jumped in, I wouldn't just get wet. I'd change.
Someone pushed me from behind. Laughing, splashing, typical Tyler energy. I hit the water surface-first, the shock cold knocking everything loose. Under the surface, the world went muffled and strange. I stopped fighting it. For the first time all summer, I wasn't performing.
I broke the surface gasping, dragging myself toward the edge. Tyler was there, hand outstretched, that smug smile plastered on. "You okay, **fox**?" he said, like it was a compliment.
I looked at his hand, then at the treeline where the wild thing had disappeared. Something clicked into place — sharp and undeniable.
"Actually," I said, pulling myself up without his help, "I'm more of a swimmer."
And then I turned around and dove back in.