The Fox and the Friday Night Zombie

Maya's track teammates called her Fox because she was always the first one running. But tonight, sprawled on Ava's couch while her best friend of seven years scrolled through TikTok without saying a word, Maya felt more like the opposite of quick. She felt stuck.

"So," Ava said, finally looking up. "Tyler's having a party tonight. You coming?"

The question hit harder than it should've. Tyler's parties were legendary, but ever since Ava started dating him last month, Maya had become the permanent third wheel. The designated hanger-on. The backup friend.

"Nah," Maya forced a laugh. "You guys have fun. I've got... stuff."

"What stuff? You've been bailing on everything lately."

"Just tired." Maya gestured at the TV. "Besides, this zombie marathon is lowkey riveting."

On screen, a character ran screaming from the undead. Maya felt like she'd been running all year—running from awkward conversations, running from the way her friend group had shifted like tectonic plates, running from the realization that friendship breakups hurt worse than romantic ones because no one taught you how to grieve them.

Ava sighed. "You're being weird again."

"Am I?" Maya grabbed her backpack. "Or am I just noticing that we haven't had a real conversation in weeks?"

The silence that followed was so thick you could serve it for dinner.

Ava's face softened. "Look, Tyler's cool, okay? But I know it's been different. Why don't you come tonight? We can get food first. That place downtown with those spinach wraps you like."

Maya almost said yes. Almost went back to being the okay friend, the available friend, the one who didn't make waves.

Instead, she stood up.

"I think I'm done running," Maya said. "See you Monday, Ava."

She walked out into the cool night air, alone but somehow lighter. The Fox stopped running from what she already knew—some friendships have expiration dates, and that's okay. She'd find her people. The ones who didn't make her feel like a zombie in her own life.