Screen Time

Maya's iPhone 13 buzzed against her thigh—another notification from the group chat that was definitely talking about her. She ignored it, because right now she had bigger problems. Like the 1,500-pound bull staring her down from across the fence.

"He's not gonna charge," her cousin Jake said, leaning against the barn with zero urgency. "Big Red's chill."

Big Red huffed a cloud of steam from his nostrils and pawed the ground. Maya was pretty sure that was bull language for I WILL crush you.

"I'm from Brooklyn," she said, backing away slowly. "The closest I've ever gotten to livestock is the Meat section at Whole Foods."

"Grab the orange bucket," Jake said, pointing to a bright plastic bucket near the fence. "He loves the orange slices. Hand-raise him, remember?"

Maya looked at the bull, then at the bucket, then at her phone in her hand. Back in the city, her friends were probably posting stories about how she'd bailed on their plans. Her ex had definitely posted that sunset picture with his new girl. She'd seen it before service cut out. The screen went black, her own reflection staring back—hair frizzy from humidity, eyes wide with something that wasn't fear, exactly. Just ... not this. Not whatever her life was supposed to be this summer.

She shoved the phone in her pocket. Reached for the bucket.

Big Red stepped forward, then stopped.

"Just walk slow," Jake said.

Maya grabbed the orange bucket. The bull lowered his massive head, brown eyes locking onto hers like he was waiting for something. For real.

She held out a slice.

His tongue wrapped around it—gross but also kind of majestic. He chewed. She offered another. And another. Until she was standing at the fence, her hand inches from his nose, his breath warm against her palm.

"See?" Jake grinned. "Told you."

Her phone buzzed again. Maya pulled it out, thumb hovering over the screen. Then she lowered it, watching Big Red chew his last orange slice like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Yeah," she said. "I see."