Fox On The Track

My legs burned like I'd been running through actual fire, not just the last quarter-mile of the JV cross country meet. Coach Miller had been yelling at me from the sidelines—something about kicking it into gear—but honestly? My brain was still stuck on what Harper'd said in the locker room before the race.

"You're trying too hard," she'd said, all casual-like while tying her shoes with those stupid perfect bows. "It's giving desperation energy."

Harper, aka Fox because she's somehow always three steps ahead of everyone socially, had been my best friend until two months ago when she decided I was too much for her carefully curated brand. Now she was flirting with the varsity captain and looking like she belonged in a TikTok influencer's feed instead of suburban Ohio.

Anyway, I was running—seriously considering whether third place was worth the literal ache in my chest—when I saw it.

An actual fox.

Just chilling beside the trail, watching me with these weirdly intelligent amber eyes. Not scared. Just observing, like it knew something I didn't.

I slowed down. Coach would kill me, but whatever.

The fox tilted its head at me, and I swear to god it looked amused.

"You got something to say?" I wheezed.

It didn't answer (obviously), but it did something better. It sat down. Like, this creature that could've bolted at any second chose to just exist with me for a second. Not running. Not performing. Just being.

I finished the race in fifth place. Harper got second. But when I texted my mom afterward, I didn't complain about how unfair everything was.

"Can you make those smoothies?" I wrote. "You know, the spinach ones with the vitamin D drops?"

"Wait, YOU'RE asking?" she replied with three crying-laughing emojis. "Who are you and what have you done with my child?"

"Just trying something new."

And okay, maybe Harper was right about one thing—I had been trying too hard. But not at running. At everything.

That fox (the animal, not the backstabbing former best friend) taught me more in ten seconds than Harper did in three years of friendship. Sometimes you've gotta stop running long enough to figure out where you actually want to go.

The smoothie was gross. But I drank the whole thing anyway.