The Fox at the Padel Court

The first time I saw the Fox, I was absolutely embarrassing myself at the padel court.

New school, new rules, and apparently you had to be good at sports to have a social life. Which I wasn't. Not even close. I swung the racquet like I was fighting off bees, missing the ball completely twice before sending it directly into the fence.

"Smooth," said someone behind me.

I turned around, ready to be roasted, and saw her. Orange cable-knit sweater, messy hair that looked like she'd just woken up, and this expression like she found everything hilarious. That was Maya.

"I'm Leo," I said, suddenly hyper-aware that I was still holding the racquet like a weapon.

"I know," she said. "You're in my history class. You sit there looking like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

She wasn't wrong.

That afternoon, my freaking internet cut out right as I was supposed to be turning in an assignment. The cable company said they couldn't send anyone until Thursday, which was peak adult incompetence. I ended up at the public library, and who was there? Orange Sweater Maya.

She waved me over to her table. "Cable situation?"

"You too?"

"Whole block's out," she said, sliding over a chair. "Want to work together? I promise not to judge your terrible padel form."

We spent two hours there. She was funny in this effortless way, making fun of the textbook authors and our history teacher's obsession with dates. I actually laughed. Like, real laughed.

The Fox—that was her nickname at school. Cunning, quick, impossible to catch. But sitting there in the library, she didn't seem like someone who needed a nickname. She was just Maya, who somehow made a Tuesday afternoon feel like something.

"Padel again tomorrow?" she asked as we packed up.

"If you promise not to watch."

"No promises," she grinned. "But I might bring extra snacks. And maybe teach you how to actually hit the ball."

Walking home, I realized something. The terrible internet didn't matter. The fact that I sucked at sports didn't matter. I'd made a friend, and that was something worth holding onto.