The Lightning Fox

Rain blasted against my bedroom window as I stared at my cracked **iphone** screen, thumbs hovering over send. The text to Leo—my ex-best friend who'd ghosted me three months ago for the cool crowd—sat waiting.

"You gonna stare at that all night or actually live your life?" Maya leaned against my doorframe, chewing gum.

"Shut up," I muttered, but she was right. My social life had drier energy than the Sahara.

Then came the **lightning**—this massive purple bolt that lit up the whole neighborhood. And in that flash, I saw it: a fox standing in my backyard, orange fur glowing, watching me through the glass like it knew something.

"Did you see that?" I grabbed Maya's arm.

"See what? Your social life flashing before your eyes?"

"No, seriously. There's a fox out there."

Maya rolled her eyes but followed me downstairs. We crept into the backyard, rain soaking our hoodies. There it was again, sitting on the old wooden fence, tail flicking.

"Whoa," Maya whispered, pulling out her phone to document this unnatural moment for TikTok.

The fox didn't run. It tilted its head, eyes bright with something almost human-like intelligence. Then it hopped down and trotted toward the creek behind our houses.

"We following it?" Maya asked, already wading through the wet grass.

"Obviously."

The **water** rushed beneath the old stone bridge where we used to hang before everything got weird. The fox paused there, looking back at us like it was waiting.

"Yo, is this a spirit animal situation?" Maya whispered. "Because I'm not ready for that energy tonight."

But then I heard voices from under the bridge. Familiar voices.

Leo and some of his new friends, vaping and laughing about something. The fox sat at the edge of the bridge, tail curled around its paws, watching them too.

"Whatever," I said, turning back. "Let's go."

"Wait." Maya pointed. "Look at your phone."

A notification from Leo: hey, sorry about everything. that party sucked without you anyway.

The fox yipped once, almost like a laugh, then vanished into the darkness.

"Wild," Maya said, linking her arm through mine. "But you're gonna text him back, right?"

I thought about the fox—how it had appeared out of nowhere, led us here, then disappeared. Like some things weren't meant to be caught.

"Maybe," I said, and we walked back through the rain, not rushing toward anything for once.