Foxfire at the Pool

I felt like a zombie at Maya's party, shuffling along the pool deck in my oversized t-shirt, counting down the minutes until I could bail. Someone blasted that remix that's been stuck in everyone's FYP for weeks. The water glittered like liquid diamonds, and everyone looked so effortless in their swimsuits, while I stood there in my cover-up like I'd been Photoshopped into the wrong scene.

"You gonna swim or just stand there looking traumatized?" Jenna appeared beside me, holding two Solo cups. She was that popular—beautiful without knowing it, the kind of person who could order at Starbucks and make it sound cool.

"Working up to it," I lied.

She handed me a cup. "It's sprite. Don't look so terrified."

That's when I saw it—a fox darting through Maya's perfectly manicured backyard. Just for a second, copper fur catching the party lights, gone so fast I almost questioned if it was real. But it WAS real. A wild thing, wandering into this carefully curated world of pool floats and Bluetooth speakers and social hierarchies that felt like life or death at fifteen.

"Did you see that?"

Jenna looked. "See what?"

"The fox."

She shrugged. "Probably just a stray or something. Anyway, you coming in? The water's actually decent."

I stood there thinking about that fox—unapologetically itself, passing through like it belonged wherever it wanted. Not performing. Not overthinking. Just *being*.

"You know what?" I pulled off my t-shirt. "Yeah. I'm coming in."

The shock of cold water hit my skin, and suddenly I wasn't the overthinking zombie anymore. I was just a girl in a pool on a Friday night, suspended somewhere between the person I used to be and whoever I was becoming. Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes that's everything.