Orange Hair & Goldfish Funerals

I became a zombie somewhere between third period AP Bio and lunch. Not the brain-eating kind—the high school kind, where you shuffle through corridors existing but not really living. My orange hair, dyed three shades too bright over the weekend, made me feel like a traffic cone instead of the bold statement I'd imagined.

"Nice hair, traffic cone," Marcus called from his table. His crew laughed. I didn't respond. I just floated past like a ghost, carrying my Tupperware container.

Outside, behind the bleachers where the stoners usually hung out, I conducted the funeral. Goldie had lived a solid three months—a personal record for my black thumb of aquarium death. I'd already flushed two fish this semester. This one deserved better.

"You were a good fish," I whispered, sprinkling flakes over the tiny grave I'd dug. "Better than most people at this school."

"Weird way to spend lunch."

I jumped. A fox sat ten feet away, watching me with calm, intelligent eyes. Not scared. Just curious. We stared at each other—me with my orange hair and dead fish, him with his russet coat and wild heart.

He tilted his head, like he got it. Like he understood that sometimes you're the odd one out, the one who doesn't run with the pack, the one who does things differently because that's just who you are.

"You dye your hair too?" I asked. The fox's tail twitched. Amused.

"Leilani?" The voice made me jump again. Skylar from my English class stood there, sketchbook under her arm. "Is that... a fox?"

"Yeah. We were just having a moment."

She laughed. Not mean laughter. Real laughter. "That's actually kind of amazing." She sat beside me, not too close, not too far. "I skipped lunch too. The cafeteria noise makes me feel like I'm dying inside."

"Zombie mode," I said.

"Exactly."

We sat there while the fox watched, both of us with our orange hair—hers natural, mine regrettable—and suddenly I didn't feel so dead anymore. Sometimes you find your pack in the weirdest places, doing the weirdest things, and that's okay.

The fox dipped his head once, like approval, then vanished into the woods.

"Tomorrow," Skylar said, standing up. "Let's eat lunch here again. But maybe no more fish funerals?"

"Deal."

For the first time in months, the zombie inside me felt alive.