Foxfire and Fake Courage

Maya's mom pressed the orange **vitamin** gummy into her palm before the party. "For immunity," she'd said, as if vitamins could shield Maya from social awkwardness. Maya pocketed it anyway.

The house was already pulsing when she arrived. Seniors sprawled across expensive furniture like they owned the place. Maya hovered near the snack table, clutching her phone like a lifeline. Then she saw him—Leo, the track star with the effortless smile, currently holding court by the back door.

Maya's crush on Leo had lasted approximately forever. She'd been watching him from across AP Bio for months, collecting little moments like souvenirs. Tonight, she'd promised herself, would be different. Tonight she'd actually talk to him.

She smoothed her dress, took a breath, and headed over.

"Hey," she managed, and Leo turned. His eyes lit up—or maybe that was just the fairy lights strung across the patio. "Maya! Right? From bio?"

"Yeah."

"Cool party."

"Yeah."

Kill me now, she thought.

Then Leo's friend appeared, lanky and sharp-eyed, with a nickname he'd earned honestly. "Yo **Fox**," someone called, and he grinned—this guy who'd hacked the school's grading system last semester and somehow talked his way out of expulsion. Cunning. Slippery. A fox.

"We're doing backyard s'mores," Fox announced. "Who's in?"

"Me," Maya said, before she could overthink it. Then she caught Leo's eye. "Us?"

Leo's smile widened. "Absolutely."

The whole group tumbled out into the moonlit yard, marshmallows and chocolate in hand. But when they reached the fire pit, something snapped in the trees. A sound like twigs breaking, something heavy moving through the dark.

Everyone froze.

Then it stepped into the firelight—a **bear**, actually enormous, actually there, not some metaphor for social anxiety or academic pressure. An actual freaking bear.

The silence shattered. Screams, marshmallows dropped, the whole group scrambling back toward the house in perfect chaotic unison. Someone grabbed Maya's arm—Leo, his grip tight, pulling her toward the back door.

They tumbled inside, breathless and shaking, while someone's dad grabbed a flashlight and the bear lumbered away into the night.

"Did that just happen?" Maya whispered, heart hammering against her ribs.

Leo laughed, kind of wildly. "That just happened."

Later, they sat on the front steps with the rest of the party refugees, sharing shock and adrenaline and somehow this was easier than normal conversation. Maya found herself next to Leo, their shoulders touching, both of them still buzzing.

"I was scared out of my mind," he admitted.

"Me too," she said. And it was true, but somehow the fear had broken something open—something about being real, about not having to perform coolness or confidence.

The bear was gone. The fox was inside, recounting the escape like an epic battle. And Maya reached into her pocket and found the vitamin gummy, slightly squished, and popped it into her mouth.

Not for immunity. For courage. The fake kind that sometimes becomes real.