Foxfire at Midnight

Maya's iPhone buzzed with the seventh notification in as many minutes. Another Snapchat from someone at Tyler's party, another reminder that everyone was having the time of their lives without her.

"You coming, bro?" Lena had texted earlier. "It's gonna be LIT."

Maya stared at her ceiling, feeling like a zombie after finals week drained her soul. Her mom had already left the "wellness basket" on her desk—vitamin supplements, a jade roller, and a note that said "Take care of yourself, sweetie." Because nothing said self-care like feeling guilty for not wanting to socialize.

But then her phone lit up with a different message: "Pool's open. Meet us there."

The nighttime swim spot—behind the old Miller property, where the fence had a hole just big enough to squeeze through. Maya threw on her swimsuit and grabbed her bike.

The water was glass-smooth when she arrived, reflecting the moon like liquid silver. Lena was already there, along with Jordan and quiet, earnest Sam from her bio class. They weren't taking selfies or livestreaming. Just existing.

"Finally," Lena said, splashing water at her. "We were about to send a search party."

They floated on their backs, staring up at the stars, talking about everything and nothing. College applications. The weird existential dread of being seventeen. How Jordan's fox-shaped lamp from IKEA was the only thing keeping him sane during his parents' divorce.

"No joke," Jordan said, "I named him Fernando. He listens. He doesn't talk back. Best roommate ever."

Maya felt something loosen in her chest, the knot of anxiety she'd been carrying all week. Here, in the dark, water lapping against her skin, she didn't have to perform. Didn't have to curate the perfect Instagram story.

A real fox actually appeared at the water's edge—amber eyes watching them, curious and unafraid. They held their breath as it drank, then vanished into the shadows like something from a dream.

"No way," Sam whispered. "That was legit magic."

Maya's phone lay forgotten on the grass. For the first time in forever, she didn't care what she was missing. She was exactly where she needed to be.