The Fox in the Mirror

Layla had perfected the art of being invisible. She'd **spy** on the popular kids' lunch table from behind her chemistry textbook, memorizing their inside jokes like they were sacred texts. Her cat, Beans, was the only one who truly understood her — a judgmental orange tabby who knocked Layla's phone off the nightstand at 3 AM when she was doomscrolling through Instagram Stories again.

"You're obsessed," Maya said, sliding into the seat across from her. "It's borderline creepy."

"I'm not obsessed," Layla lied. "I'm conducting research."

"Right. Research on how to become basic 101." Maya tossed a bag of goldfish crackers onto the table. "Eat. You look like you haven't had real food since Tuesday."

The goldfish crackers were stale, but Layla ate them anyway because that's what you did when your only friend was right about everything.

That afternoon, Layla spotted Jason — the Jason — walking toward the bus loop with that easy grin that made her chest feel weird. But he wasn't alone. Skylar was walking with him, and they were laughing like they'd known each other forever. Layla felt like she'd swallowed a bowl of those goldfish crackers whole — scratchy and wrong.

She took the long way home, the one that wound through the patch of woods behind the school. That's when she saw it — a red **fox**, standing perfectly still at the edge of the clearing. It looked right at her with eyes that seemed to say, *I see you. And I know you see yourself all wrong.*

The next day, Layla deleted Instagram from her phone. She started sitting with Maya at lunch without a textbook barricade. She even wore that vintage jacket she'd been saving for "someday."

"What's with the outfit?" Maya asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just trying something new," Layla said with a shrug. "I realized I've been spending way too much time watching everyone else's life instead of living mine."

"Finally," Maya grinned. "Took you long enough, Sherlock."