Fox Signals

Maya's iPhone was basically her fifth limb. She refreshed Instagram for the third time in five minutes, watching the likes trickle in like slow-motion rain. Her selfie from the mall had only gotten twelve likes in twenty minutes. That was basically social suicide at Westwood High.

"You're doing it again," said Ren, dropping into the cafeteria seat across from her. "The doom-scrolling face. You look like you're watching a documentary about extinct species."

Maya locked her phone. "It's just—this was supposed to be my fit pic, you know? Now I feel like I'm blasting into flop era."

"Who cares?" Ren pushed a neon orange bottle across the table. "Try these. My mom says they're basically emotional support in pill form."

"Vitamin gummies? Really?"

"They're peach-mango. Also, you're lowkey radiating main character energy today, if that helps."

Maya laughed. Ren always knew what to say. But her phone buzzed again—a notification that made her stomach drop. Someone had reposted her mall selfie with the caption: "why is she trying so hard💀"

That was it. Maya grabbed her backpack and headed for the exit, Ren calling after her. She needed air. She needed to not be Maya of the Twelve Likes for five seconds.

The school's back garden was basically a weed patch, but nobody went there. Perfect. Except someone was already there.

A girl sat on the rusty bench, orange hair spiked up like she'd been electrocuted. She looked up, and Maya froze—that piercing green stare, sharp and knowing. Like being x-rayed.

"You're Maya, right?"

Maya nodded. The girl's wrist tattoo caught the sunlight—a fox mid-leap, inked in delicate black lines.

"I'm Fox."

"Like... the animal?"

"Like my parents are weirdly into nature." Fox patted the bench space beside her. "You look like you just got ratioed. It happens to the best of us."

Maya sat. "How did you—"

"Saw your story. The comment section was giving major bully energy." Fox reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of colorful gummies. "Vitamin D? I heard it helps with internet-induced despair."

Maya stared at them. They looked exactly like Ren's.

"I'm joking," Fox said. "They're just regular gummy bears. But the placebo effect is real."

Something in Maya's chest loosened. "Why are you being nice to me? We've never even spoken."

"Because last year, someone posted a picture of me crying after I bombed my math test. Captioned it 'meltdown in the wild.'" Fox's expression went distant. "I learned something that day. People who hide behind screens are just... hungry. They're starving for something real."

"So what do we do?"

"We stop feeding them." Fox held out a gummy. "We find people who nourish us instead. The ones who show up when the cameras are off."

Maya took it. The fox tattoo on Fox's wrist seemed to shimmer.

"Also," Fox added, "your fit was actually a serve. That vintage denim jacket? Immaculate."

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket. More notifications. More noise.

She left it there.

"Want to get food?" Maya asked. "There's this boba place—"

"Say less."

They walked together, leaving the garden and everything behind it. The iPhone stayed dark in Maya's pocket. For the first time all day, she wasn't refreshing anything.