Fox in the Wall

The cable guy was supposed to come between eight and twelve. It was now three-fifteen, and I'd been stuck in my room all day, allegedly "supervising" but actually watching Miles Morales across the street through my window like a total creep.

Miles, who sat at the popular table at lunch. Miles, whose laugh I could pick out in a crowded hallway. Miles, who had no idea I existed.

"You're literally spying on him again," my younger brother Jayden announced from my doorway, followed by Buster, our elderly golden retriever who'd apparently decided my floor was his new napping spot. "That's not weird at all."

"I'm not spying," I said, closing my laptop and gesturing vaguely at the mess of wires behind my TV. "I'm experiencing technical difficulties. Like a normal person."

Buster let out this dramatic huff, like even the dog knew I was lying.

The truth was, I'd been crushing on Miles since freshman year, but I was practically invisible at school. The kind of girl who blended into lockers. The kind who got nicknamed "fox" not because I was clever or sly, but because I'd once worn an orange cable-knit sweater to school and someone said I looked like a"rusty fox," and apparently that was funny enough to stick for three years.

"Whatever, fox girl," Jayden said, already leaving. "Cable guy's here."

I followed him downstairs, expecting some middle-aged dude who'd complain about our wiring. Instead, I froze in the entryway.

It was Miles. In a uniform. Holding a toolkit.

"Uh," I said, articulate as ever.

"Hey," Miles said, then did this double-take. "Wait, you're fox girl, right? From English?"

"My name is Riley," I managed, somehow.

"Riley," he repeated, trying it out. "Nice. I'm Miles, obviously." He gestured at his uniform. "Summer job. My uncle owns the company."

Buster chose that moment to waddle over and drop a tennis ball at Miles's feet, because apparently today was the day my dog decided to become a wingman.

Miles laughed—that real laugh I'd heard from my window—and kneeled to pet Buster. "Good boy. You Riley's dog?"

"Yeah, he's basically the only male who pays attention to me," I said before I could stop myself.

Miles looked up, eyes thoughtful. "That's not true. I mean, I noticed you. You're always reading in the courtyard during lunch. That one day with the orange book? I wanted to ask what it was."

My heart did this actual cartoon thing where it skipped a beat.

"It was The Fox and the Star," I said quietly.

"Figures," Miles grinned, standing up. "You know what? Let me fix your cable, and then maybe you could tell me about it? Over boba or something?"

"Like, as friends?" I asked, because I was an idiot.

"Or," he said, "whatever you want. But I'm pretty sure I want to know more about the girl who reads books about foxes and has a very strategic dog."

Buster barked, and I swear, if that dog could high-five me, he would have.

"Deal," I said.

Later, watching Miles walk back to his truck after successfully restoring our WiFi, Jayden appeared beside me. "So, did you get his number?"

"Better," I said, already pulling out my phone to text Miles about that boba date. "I think I just got upgraded from background character to supporting role."

"About time," my brother said. "Being a spy is exhausting work, fox girl."