Fox Hollow Fiasco

Maya's mom kept calling her zombie-eyed from staying up too late, but tonight she actually had an excuse. Halloween at Jackson's house—the party that'd make or break your social standing freshman year.

"You good?" whispered Kiara, adjusting her fox ears in the rearview mirror. "You look like you're gonna hurl."

"Nerves," Maya lied. Truth: she was running on three coffees and pure panic about seeing Alex.

They'd been flirting all semester—shared memes in study hall, that one moment by the lockers where he'd held the door way longer than necessary. Tonight was supposed to be their moment.

Until Jackson's golden retriever, Bear, charged out the front door, barking at something in the woods.

"Bear! Come back!" Jackson yelled. The party stopped. The mood shifted from buzzed to worried.

"I'll go," Maya volunteered automatically, her voice cracking mid-word. Smooth.

Alex stepped up too. "I'll help."

The woods behind Jackson's house were dark as hell, their phone flashlights cutting through fog like weak light sabers. They found Bear wagging his tail near a hole in the ground, dirt flying everywhere.

"What's he digging?" Alex asked, standing closer than necessary. Maya's heart did that stupid flutter thing.

A flash of orange fur shot out from the hole. A real fox—gone before Maya could process it.

"Was that—" Alex started, but then his phone buzzed. Twenty missed calls from Jackson. They'd been gone twenty minutes. Party was over, cops called.

"running back now," his text read as they half-jogged, half-laughed through the trees. The zombie apocalypse vibes were real—people scattered everywhere, blue lights flashing.

They ended up at the 24-hour diner instead, the four of them—Maya, Alex, Kiara, Jackson. Bear sat under the table like a weirdly fluffy hero.

"Worst party ever?" Alex said, but he was smiling at Maya.

"Best party ever," she countered, and actually meant it.

Sometimes the night you planned goes completely sideways, and somehow that's exactly when the real stuff happens.