The Fox at Water's Edge

The abandoned pool at Miller's Creek was our sanctuary—the kind of place parents would absolutely freak about if they knew. Three of us squeezed onto the cracked diving board like a human pyramid, Jax on bottom, Harper in the middle, me teetering on top.

"You're literally gonna fall," Harper said, pushing her hair out of her face. "Again."

"Am not." I adjusted my position, trying to ignore how my heart did that stupid fluttery thing whenever she looked at me. Which was ridiculous. We'd been best friends since seventh grade.

A flash of orange-red movement caught my eye near the tree line. A fox—sleek and impossibly wild—paused at the water's edge, watching us with glowing amber eyes before slipping away into the darkness.

"Did you see that?" I whispered, momentarily forgetting my balance crisis.

"See what?" Jax was already reaching for his phone, blue light illuminating his face. "Cable's out at my house again. Dad's losing it. I need to know if Becky texted back."

"Classic Jax," Harper rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Everything's about Becky."

Everything was about something for everyone else. Me? I was just the quiet one who sat in the back of AP Bio, who drew foxes in the margins of her notebook, who spent way too much time thinking about how Harper's laugh sounded like wind chimes.

The pyramid beneath me shifted. I yelped, arms windmilling, and tumbled backward into the empty pool basin. Concrete scraped my palms, sharp and shocking.

Harper scrambled down after me, her face inches from mine in the moonlight. "You okay?"

The air between us felt charged, electric. Like touching a live wire. I wanted to say it—what I'd been writing in encrypted notes in my journal, what I'd been practicing saying to my mirror.

Instead I said: "Yeah. Just my pride."

Jax's face appeared over the pool edge. "Yo, Becky wants to hang. McDonald's run?"

"You go," Harper said, not looking away from me. "I'll help Maya up."

"You sure?" Jax was already backing away. "Fine. Text me."

His footsteps faded. Silence settled around us, heavy and expectant. The fox's amber eyes seemed to watch from somewhere in the shadows.

"Maya," Harper said softly. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you—"

My phone buzzed in my pocket. My mom. GROUNDED. COME HOME NOW.

I closed my eyes. "Summer," I promised myself. "This summer, I'll say everything."

The fox. The cable. The pyramid. The water. The cat Harper had gotten for her birthday last month. All the pieces were there. I just had to find the courage to put them together.