The Fox Between Us

The zip line cable snapped taut between our backyard oaks, vibrating like a guitar string. Lucas and I hadn't said three real sentences to each other since middle school started, ever since he joined travel baseball and I joined the AV club. But here we were, building this thing anyway because his dad said it would be "good for us."

"Hold it steady," Lucas muttered, sweat dripping down his face as he ratcheted the line tighter.

I watched my dog, Barnaby, sprinting toward the fence line where a ginger fox had been appearing at dusk for a week. Every evening, Barnaby lost his mind chasing it, and every evening, the fox just sat there watching him like he was cute.

"Your dog's gonna hurt himself," Lucas said, not looking at me.

"He never catches it."

"The fox isn't running."

I looked up. Lucas was right. The fox wasn't running anymore. It was watching Barnaby watch it, head tilted, almost like it was waiting for something.

"They're friends now," I said. "Like, weirdly."

Lucas actually smiled. A real one. "My cousin has a fox that hangs around his farm. Says they're smarter than dogs. Smarter than some people, too."

The tension between us cracked open like a door unlatching. I didn't know his cousin had a farm. He didn't know I'd been watching the fox every night, taking notes in my phone about its patterns for a nature documentary I'd probably never make.

"You ever gonna show me your baseball swing?" I asked, testing the waters.

"You ever gonna tell me why you joined AV club instead of the team?"

"Because I'd rather film the game than play it."

He thought about this. "That's actually not stupid. We need someone who knows what they're doing with the camera. Coach has been begging for footage."

The fox dipped its head at Barnaby, and Barnaby dipped his back. A truce across the species barrier.

"Tomorrow," Lucas said, grabbing his baseball gear from the grass. "Bring your camera. I'll bring my glove."

"And the cable?"

"Yeah. The cable too. We're finishing this."

As I watched him walk away, the fox slipped into the woods and Barnaby trotted back to my side, tongue out, like they'd just had the most normal conversation in the world. Some things, I realized, just needed time to stop running away from each other.