The Spy in the Hallway

Maya's fingers hovered over her phone screen, heart doing that thing where it felt too big for her chest. Three weeks ago, her ex-best-friend Fiona had started watching her Instagram stories. Every. Single. One. That was basically spying, right? Even if they went to the same school and had twelve mutual friends.

"You're still thinking about her," said Jo, sliding into the cafeteria booth across from her. Jo, who was somehow still her friend through the Great Middle School Friendship Apocalypse of eighth grade. Jo, who knew everything.

"She literally viewed my story within thirty seconds. Who does that?"

"Someone who's still obsessed?" Jo raised an eyebrow. "Or someone who's just chronically online. Like everyone else."

Maya rolled her eyes so hard it actually hurt. "That's not the point. The point is she's acting like she's my friend now? She left me a comment saying 'miss you' on my post from yesterday. Miss me? Seriously?"

The drama had started back in October when Fiona had decided that Maya wasn't cool enough anymore. The thing nobody talked about was how it had happened right after Maya's parents got divorced, and suddenly she didn't have the money for the mall trips everyone else was planning. But whatever. Ancient history.

Or so she'd thought.

"So what are you gonna do?" Jo asked, stealing a fry from Maya's tray.

"I don't know. Ignore her? Block her? Confront her in the hallway and make a scene?" The last option was tempting but also terrifying. Maya didn't do confrontation. She did awkward silence and vague posts that nobody understood.

That afternoon, Maya was at her locker when she felt someone behind her. She turned to find Fiona standing there, looking almost nervous.

"Hey," Fiona said, like they hadn't spent months avoiding each other's eyes in every shared class.

"Hey." Maya's voice came out higher than she wanted.

"I saw your story," Fiona continued. "About your art portfolio? That's actually sick. I didn't know you were still doing all that."

"Yeah." Maya slammed her locker shut a little too aggressively. "It's for the art program application. Due Friday."

Fiona nodded, like she was actually processing this. "That's a big deal. That program is competitive as hell. My brother tried to get in last year and didn't make it."

"Thanks for the pep talk."

"No, I mean —" Fiona looked down at her shoes. "I'm trying to say I think it's impressive. That you're still going for it even with everything going on."

Everything. Like Maya's parents splitting, like her having to get a part-time job, like all of it was common knowledge instead of stuff Fiona had probably gathered from her casual spying.

"Why do you even care?" Maya asked, feeling that familiar mix of anger and sadness that Fiona could still make her feel. "We're not friends anymore. Remember?"

"I know." Fiona's voice got quiet. "I didn't — I didn't handle that well. Any of it."

"You think?"

"I was dealing with my own stuff," Fiona said, which was so classic Fiona it almost made Maya laugh. "But that's not an excuse. I should have been there for you when your parents split. Instead I got weird and distant and honestly, I've been beating myself up about it for months."

Maya stood there, letting this sink in. Fiona had been watching her stories not because she was obsessed in a creepy way, but because she was actually checking up on her? Checking on the friend she'd messed up with?

"You could have just, like, texted me?" Maya said finally.

"I didn't think I had the right to." Fiona shrugged. "But I saw you posting about the art program and I figured maybe you'd want to know that someone's still in your corner. Even if I don't deserve to be."

"You don't," Maya agreed, but she could feel her anger cooling down into something more complicated. "But thanks. For saying it."

Fiona smiled a little. "Good luck with the portfolio. Seriously. If you get in, I'll be the first to congratulate you."

"If I get in," Maya repeated, testing how it felt to have someone other than Jo believe in her again. "Yeah. Okay."

Fiona walked away, and Maya watched her go, feeling strange but not terrible. Later that day, she sent Jo a text: "Fiona talked to me."

"AND?"

"It was weird. But maybe in a not-terrible way?"

Jo sent back a bunch of question marks followed by "I'm keeping my eye on her though. 😤"

Maya laughed and put her phone down. The art portfolio was still due Friday. Her parents were still divorced. And Fiona was still complicated. But somehow, things felt a little less impossible than they had that morning. Sometimes you just had to bear witness to people changing, even if you weren't ready to let them back in yet.

Baby steps.