The Fox and the Fake Deep

Maya's mom stood in the kitchen doorway, holding out the orange bottle like it was a peace offering. "Your vitamin D deficiency is stressing me out, Maya. Just take it."

"I'm good," Maya said, shoving spinach into her backpack for lunch. Again. Her life had become a wellness influencer's Pinterest board since they moved to this town three weeks ago. The worst part? Nobody at Northwood High knew her yet, which meant she was basically floating in social purgatory.

At school, she spotted the Sphinx. Not the mythological creature—the weird concrete statue in the courtyard that everyone called "The Sphinx" even though it looked more like a depressed blob. Someone had taped a neon pink note to its forehead: *WHAT WALKS ON FOUR LEGS IN THE MORNING AND HAS ZERO FRIENDS BY LUNCH?*

Maya cringed. Second place in the coming-of-age humiliation Olympics.

"That's messed up," said a guy leaning against the wall nearby. He had messy dark hair and wore a hoodie that had definitely seen better days. "Someone needs to tell whoever wrote that that riddles are supposed to be clever, not just mean."

"Maya," she said, because apparently her mouth worked now. "I'm Maya."

"Leo." He grinned, and something in her chest did this annoying flutter thing. "You new?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're talking to the Sphinx." He nodded toward the blob-statue. "People who've been here since freshman year know better. You also look like you're questioning every life choice that led you to this moment."

"Pretty much."

"Welcome to Northwood." He pushed off the wall. "I'm headed to the art room. Mr. Harrison lets us use the good supplies if we pretend we're working on something 'educational.' You coming?"

Maya hesitated, then followed. The art room smelled like paint and freedom. Mr. Harrison looked up from his canvas, his eyes lighting up.

"Ah, the new student! You've got this sly quality about you, very observant." He gestured to her sketch. "Like a fox—quiet, watching everything, ready to pounce on the right moment. That's your artist energy, Fox."

Fox.

For the first time since moving, Maya didn't feel like the girl with the vitamin-deficient lunches and weird health-food mom. She felt like someone who could be whoever she wanted.

"Fox," she repeated, testing it out. "Yeah. I can work with that."

Leo smiled at her from across the room, and suddenly the spinach in her backpack didn't feel so heavy anymore.