Fox Fire & Orange Soda

Maya's mom was going through her 'health phase' again, which meant the kitchen counter was covered in amber bottles—cod liver oil, probiotics, and those massive vitamin D pills that tasted like compressed chalk.

"You're not getting enough sun," her mom said, sliding a bright orange bottle across the counter. "Take this. You're pale as a ghost."

"I'm fine," Maya muttered, shoving the bottle into her backpack. She was already running late for what might be the most important night of her sophomore year.

Jordan's party. The one everyone had been talking about since Monday.

She'd been crushing on Jordan since that group project in September, when he'd made fun of her terrible handwriting but then helped her finish anyway. He had this crooked smile that made her stomach do actual backflips. Not that she'd ever tell her best friend Chloe that. Chloe would make it weird.

The party was already packed when Maya arrived. She squeezed through the crowded hallway, past couples making out against lockers that had been shoved aside, into the kitchen where someone had set up a makeshift DJ station.

"Maya!" Chloe grabbed her arm. "You made it!"

"Wouldn't miss it," Maya said, though her palms were sweating. "Where's Jordan?"

Chloe pointed toward the back door. "Outside with his weird cousin. Something about a fox?"

A fox? Weird.

Maya grabbed a solo cup of something that looked like orange soda but definitely wasn't and headed outside. The cool air hit her like relief. There, by the edge of the woods, stood Jordan and a girl she'd never seen before—a tall girl with fire-red hair cut into a sharp bob, wearing a vintage bomber jacket that looked like it had seen actual war.

They were crouched in the grass, phones out, flashlights aimed at something in the bushes.

"What's going on?" Maya called out.

Jordan looked up, grinning. "Maya! Hey! My cousin Riley thinks she saw a fox."

Riley turned, and Maya's breath caught. Riley had this intense, no-nonsense energy that immediately made Maya feel like she'd been drinking Capri Sun her whole life.

"Did you know foxes are one of the only animals that can retract their claws like cats?" Riley said. "Also, they're basically immune to rabies. Evolution's little murder kitties."

Maya laughed. "Murder kitties?"

"You got a better name?" Riley shot back, but she was smiling now.

They all ended up crouched there for twenty minutes, waiting for a fox that never showed up. But somehow, it didn't matter. Jordan was easy to talk to, way easier than Maya had built him up to be. And Riley—Riley was fascinating, talking about moving here from Portland, about how she'd been volunteering at an animal sanctuary, about how she thought this town was cute but also, like, aggressively suburban.

When Maya's phone buzzed with a text from her mom—asking if she'd taken her vitamin—she almost ignored it.

Instead, she texted back: Yeah. Everything's good.

And for once, it wasn't a lie.