Goldfish & Foxfire

Maya's room felt like a prison sometimes. Not, like, actual jail, but the kind where everyone expects you to be someone you're not. Her phone buzzed — another group chat blowing up about Jordan's party tonight. "U coming??" "Maya???" "Pls say yes"

She sighed. Social battery at 3%. The only thing keeping her sane was Barnaby, her **goldfish**, swimming laps in his tank like he understood everything without saying a word. Which, okay, he couldn't actually say words because fish, but still.

"You're lucky, Barnaby," she whispered, pressing her face to the glass. "Nobody expects you to perform."

Her window squeaked. Maya jumped — and there it was. A **fox**. On her fire escape. Bright orange fur glowing in the streetlights, amber eyes locked on her like it had something important to say.

"No freaking way," she breathed. The fox tilted its head, almost like it was judging her life choices, then vanished into the night.

Her phone lit up again. Unknown number: "hey, this is sam from bio. u going to jordans?" Sam. The kid who sat behind her, always doodling foxes in the margins of his notes. Maya had caught him looking at her once, maybe twice, but she'd convinced herself she was imagining it.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. What would Cool Maya do? What would Real Maya do?

Outside, a streak of orange flashed past her window again. The fox. Like a sign, or something corny like that.

Maya typed: "idk. parties aren't really my vibe"

Sam: "same. wanna hang instead? i have snacks. and memes. lots of memes"

She smiled. For the first time all week, her chest felt lighter.

"Sounds legit," she typed back. "But if your memes are mid, I'm out."

"deal. see u in 10"

Maya grabbed her hoodie. Barnaby did a little flip. The fox appeared one last time, staring at her from the alley like, Good call, kid. She didn't need Jordan's party. She didn't need to fake it anymore.

Sometimes the right **friend** finds you exactly when you stop looking.