Orange Sunset Riddle

The orange sunset bled into the pool water as I stood there, nursing a warm soda, watching my best friend laugh across the deck with people I didn't know. Maya's new friends. Since we started high school, she'd been drifting away like smoke, and I was still stuck in middle school orbit.

"You look like a sphinx trying to solve a riddle," someone said beside me.

I jumped. It was Leo, the quiet kid from English, holding a plastic cup. I hadn't even heard him approach.

"What's the riddle?" I asked, surprised at how easily I found myself talking to him.

He nodded toward Maya. "How to lose your best friend without actually losing them."

My chest tightened. "That obvious, huh?"

Leo shrugged. "I've been there. Freshman year, my dog got hit by a car. My friend Finn was supposed to be walking with me that day, but he bailed to hang out with his new lacrosse buddies. We never really recovered."

"That's brutal."

"Yeah. But here's the thing —" Leo leaned in closer "—sometimes people are like foxes. They're not yours. They're just wild, and you're lucky if they stay in your territory for a while."

I looked at Maya again, really looked at her, with her new highlights and new clothes and new laugh. She looked happy. And wasn't that what I wanted? For her to be happy?

"So what's the solution?" I asked. "To the sphinx riddle?"

Leo smiled, just a little. "Stop treating her like property. Find your own pack. Maybe one that includes some people who actually show up."

He held out his cup. "I'm going to the fence line to see if my neighbor's fox is out there again. He comes around at dusk. You wanna come?"

I glanced once more at Maya, then set down my untouched soda.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I do."

The orange light was fading, but something in my chest felt bright for the first time in months.