Foxfire in the Orange Bleachers

I sat on the bottom bleacher, my butt going numb against the cold orange plastic, watching everyone else live their best homecoming dance lives. My goldfish, Fernando — may he rest in peace — had more game than me.

"You're hiding in the corner again," said Riley, sliding in beside me. She had this fox-energy, all sharp edges and knowing eyes, like she'd figured something out about high school that I'd missed. Her hair was this wild orange that made her impossible to ignore, which was exactly the point.

"Not hiding," I lied. "Observing. Like a spy. Gathering intel."

"On what?"

"On how normal people do normal things."

She laughed, and I felt that stupid flutter in my chest. The one that meant I was in trouble.

"Cat got your tongue when Summer's looking?" Riley nodded toward the DJ booth, where my actual crush was head-bobbing to whatever mid-2000s throwback remix was playing. Summer had this cat-like grace, moving through crowds like she knew exactly who she was and where she belonged. Meanwhile, I was still trying to figure out which version of myself was worth presenting to the world.

"I'm not gonna talk to her."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the guy who accidentally killed his goldfish by overfeeding it because I wanted them to 'feel loved.' That's my brand, Riley. Care-killer Dan."

"Okay first, Fernando lived a long, happy life. Second, you're not gonna talk to Summer. You're gonna become Summer's type."

"Her type is 'confident people who know how to exist without overthinking everything.'"

"Exactly." Riley stood up, extending a hand. "We're gonna run ops. I'm gonna be your spy on the inside. You're gonna work on your fox energy — cunning, adaptable, sleek. We'll meet back here in thirty with actionable intelligence."

I took her hand. "You know 'fox energy' is not a real thing, right?"

"Neither was having a social life before tonight. Yet here we are."

She flashed me this grin, all teeth and trouble, and for the first time all night, I didn't feel like I was watching from the outside. The orange bleachers didn't feel so cold anymore. Something was starting. And okay, maybe Fernando would be proud.