Fox in the Friend Group

The notification lit up my screen at 11:47 PM. Jordan had posted an Instagram story – another one with Harper.

"Whatever," I muttered, swiping past it like I hadn't already screenshotted it for the third time this week. Because apparently that's what I do now. Spy on my best friend's social media like some pathetic version of the FBI.

Harper, who everyone called **Fox** because she could slide through any social situation without making a sound, had been hanging around Jordan constantly since school started. Jordan insisted they were just lab partners, but I knew better. I'd seen Harper working her way through friend groups before – sweet one minute, dropping people the next. She was all calculated moves and resting charm face.

My little brother's **dog**, Buster, chose that moment to shove his wet nose into my hand. I scratched behind his ears, at least someone was still loyal.

"You're a good boy, Buster," I whispered. "You'd never ditch me for someone with better hair."

The next day at school, I caught Jordan and Harper together by the lockers. They were laughing at something, standing way too close. I turned around before they could see me, stomach doing that awful twisty thing it does when something's about to go wrong.

That afternoon, Jordan came over like nothing had changed. We played video games in silence until he sighed.

"Harper got a **goldfish** yesterday," Jordan said, like it was normal information. "Named it Bubble. It keeps swimming into the glass like it forgot the wall was there, over and over."

"Cool," I said, but I was thinking about how goldfish only have a seven-second memory. How lucky they are, really. They don't have to remember people leaving.

"She says I can come over and feed it when she's at practice," Jordan continued, not looking at me. "If I want to."

There it was. The thing neither of us was saying. The real reason Harper had slid into our lives – not to be anyone's friend, but to take mine.

"You should do that," I heard myself say. "Sounds chill."

Jordan's shoulders dropped like he'd been holding his breath. "Yeah. Yeah, it will be."

I stared at the game over screen flashing in front of us and wondered how long it would take me to forget this feeling. How long before Jordan and Harper and that stupid goldfish would all blur together into something that didn't hurt anymore.

Buster wandered into my room then, plopping down beside me like he knew. I scratched his ears and didn't cry, because I'm fifteen and that's not something we do anymore – not even when we're losing our best friend to someone who plays people like she's the only one who knows the rules.