Spirit Animal at Sam's Party

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. Which was ridiculous, because she was just standing at Sam's house party, holding a red plastic cup like it contained the secrets to the universe instead of lukewarm soda.

"You need a spirit animal," Chloe declared, appearing out of nowhere with that scary-accurate way she had of materializing when you least expected it. Chloe had been Maya's best friend since seventh grade, which meant she knew exactly how Maya's brain worked. Too well, sometimes.

"I'm good," Maya said, even though her phone had been vibrating in her pocket with texts from her ex all night. "Spirit animals are for people who have their lives together."

"Exactly." Chloe grabbed Maya's free hand and flipped it over, studying her palm like it contained the answers to tomorrow's math test. "Your lifeline is weak. You need something fierce. Something that says 'I may be introverted but I will absolutely destroy you if you mess with my friends.'"

Maya's social anxiety spike, which had been comfortably hovering at a 6 all night, shot up to a solid 8.

A scream erupted from the kitchen. Someone had knocked over the bowl of party snacks, sending pretzels and chips flying across the linoleum. In the chaos, a lone goldfish from Sam's betta fish bowl flopped helplessly on the floor, its scales catching the party lights like a tiny, doomed disco ball.

"That's it!" Chloe pointed. "Your spirit animal is that fish's natural predator. You're a fox!"

"A fox?" Maya stared at her. "That's literally the worst spirit animal. What does a fox even do? Sneak around and steal chickens?"

"Foxes are adaptable," Chloe said, dragging her toward the fish rescue operation forming in the kitchen. "They're cute but deadly, and they survive literally anywhere. Kinda like you surviving this party without having a panic attack."

Maya looked around the room — at Jenna laughing by the speakers, at Tyler attempting to save the fish with a Solo cup, at the way her phone had finally stopped buzzing. Maybe foxes weren't so bad. They figured stuff out. They adapted. And they looked cute doing it.

"Fine," Maya said, watching Tyler successfully wrangle the fish back into its bowl. "I claim fox. But if this turns out to be some weird astrology stuff, I'm blaming you."

"Deal." Chloe high-fived her. "Now let's go save that fish before Tyler drops it again. Foxes gotta eat, but they don't eat friends' pets."

Maya laughed, her palms finally dry, and followed her best friend into the chaos. Being a fox might not be so bad after all.