The Fox at the Bottom of the Pyramid

Maya's orange hair dye was supposed to be her rebellion. Her freshman year transformation. But standing in front of her bathroom mirror on the first day of sophomore year, she looked like she'd stuck her head in a bag of Cheetos.

"You look... confident," her mom offered weakly.

Maya grabbed her backpack. Whatever. At least she stood out now.

The social pyramid at Northwood High was brutal. At the top sat the pyramid scheme—her nickname for the popular girls who recruited followers like they were building a multi-level marketing empire. Maya had spent freshman year at the bottom, invisible and anonymous. Orange hair was her attempt to climb.

"Maya!" Sasha called from across the cafeteria. "We're doing a thing this Friday. You should come."

A thing. Maya's heart did this stupid little flip. She'd been invited to a thing.

The party was everything she'd imagined and nothing she'd expected. Kids stood on the pool deck forming a literal human pyramid, red solo cups balanced precariously. Sasha handed Maya a solo cup filled with something that definitely wasn't soda.

"Bottoms up!" someone yelled.

Maya slipped away, heart pounding. This wasn't her. None of this was her.

She found herself in the backyard, sitting on the edge of the rusted playground set, when something moved near the fence. A fox—actual, real-life fox—with the most gorgeous copper-orange coat she'd ever seen. It watched her with intelligent eyes, bold and unbothered.

"Hey," she whispered. "Nice hair."

The fox flicked its tail and trotted away, wild and free and completely uninterested in pyramids or parties or fitting in.

Maya took out her phone, opened Instagram, and typed: *Not going to the thing tonight. Found a fox instead.*

Her hair was still orange. But maybe that was okay. Foxes were orange, and they seemed pretty cool with it.