Fox on the Court

"Fox! You gonna smash that or what?" Maya yelled from across the padel court, her neon yellow wristband glowing like she'd personally invented color.

I froze, racquet hovering mid-swing. My phone had buzzed in my pocket two seconds earlier with a text from Him. Caleb. The guy who'd been ghosting me for three weeks had finally decided to bless me with his presence again. Typical.

"Hello? Earth to Lily-Fox?" Maya's voice cut through my spiral. "It's literally a ball, not your life choices."

Right. Padel. Friday night at the club where half our school seemed to have congregated like it was the only social venue in existence. I'd started going by "Fox" freshman year after some random comment at soccer camp, and somehow it had stuck. Now everyone called me that — teachers, friends, even my mom occasionally when she was feeling weirdly hip.

I smashed the ball. It ricocheted off the glass wall at a perfect angle, landing exactly where Maya couldn't return it.

"YESSS!" Maya pumped her fist. "That's what I'm talking about! You're literally smashing it tonight."

If only.

My phone buzzed again. Then again. I ignored it, because I'd learned the hard way that replying immediately gave Caleb power. And I was done being someone's backup plan, someone they could pick up and put down like their interest level fluctuated with their mood.

"You good though?" Maya asked later, as we sat on the bench drinking overpriced smoothies. "You've been kinda... not here."

I thought about the stuffed bear sitting on my bed at home. Mr. Waddles, the ridiculous teddy bear my little sister had given me when I started middle school because she said I looked scared. He'd watched me through every breakdown, every friendship drama, every moment of feeling like I didn't belong. I'd hidden him when friends came over because who still slept with a stuffed animal at sixteen?

"Yeah," I said. "Just... thinking about how we're like goldfish."

Maya raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"You know that thing about how goldfish have three-second memories? That's basically how this school works. Someone does something weird or embarrassing, and everyone's talking about it for three seconds, then they move on to something else. But we act like it's the end of the world."

Maya was quiet for a second. "Deep, Fox. Deep."

"I'm just saying — maybe we should stop caring so much what everyone thinks."

My phone lit up with another notification. Without thinking, I pulled it out.

Caleb: u up?

I stared at it. Then I deleted the thread. All of it. Months of texts, overanalyzed emoji choices, screenshots sent to Maya at 2 AM asking what he meant. Gone.

"What did you just do?" Maya asked, her eyes wide.

"I think I just got my three-second memory," I said, and we both started laughing. "Let's play another round. And this time, you're going down."