Poolside Riddles

Maya stood at the edge of Chloe's pool, clutching her **vitamin** water like it was some kind of emotional support animal. Her mom had shoved the bottle into her hand that morning with a lecture about staying hydrated, but really, Maya just needed something to do with her hands so nobody would notice they were shaking.

The chlorine smell hit her—sharp and chemical, overlaying the coconut sunscreen everyone was wearing. All around her, people she'd known since middle school were laughing, splashing, being effortlessly chill in ways Maya couldn't even fake on her best day. How did they do that? How did you just *exist* without constantly monitoring whether your stomach looked weird or your smile was too wide?

Across the pool, Jake caught her eye. He was talking to Chloe, whose laugh was that perfected **fox**-like mixture of sweet and calculated Maya had been observing since sixth grade. Everyone claimed Chloe was the nicest person alive, but Maya had seen how she operated—the backhanded compliments disguised as concern, the strategic friend groupings, the way she made everyone feel special while keeping herself exactly centered in every orbit. Maya almost respected it. Wished she could pull off that level of social cunning instead of standing there gripping a bottle of flavored water like it was her only tether to reality.

"Earth to May-a!" Katie shouted from the pool, splashing **water** at Maya's legs. "Get in or get out of the sun, you're starting to look like a raisin!"

Everyone laughed. Maya forced a smile, her cheeks burning. This was fine. This was normal. This was exactly what summer before junior year was supposed to be.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket—her mom, reminding her to take her **vitamin** D supplement. God. She was seventeen, practically an adult, and her mom still acted like she'd wither away into nothing without daily reminders. But then again, maybe her mom wasn't wrong. Maya did feel like she was missing something essential—some crucial nutrient that made everyone else confident and composed while she was just awkward and anxious and overthinking everything.

Something about the absurdity of it snapped something in her. The **sphinx** fountain beside the pool—this ridiculous Greek statue Chloe's parents had imported, its face worn smooth from years of weather, staring blankly at nothing—seemed to be mocking her. *What are you waiting for?* it seemed to say. *What's the riddle you can't solve?*

The riddle was simple: How to stop caring so much what everyone thought when the truth was, nobody was thinking about her at all.

Maya kicked off her flip-flops.

She dove in.

The **water** swallowed her whole—all noise and judgment silenced for one perfect, weightless moment. When she broke the surface, gasping, hair plastered to her face, nobody was looking at her with critique. They were just—there. Being. Existing without performing.

Jake grinned at her from across the pool. "Took you long enough."

Chloe waved from her lounge chair. "Pass me your **vitamin** water, I'm literally dying of thirst."

And Maya realized maybe that was the answer all along. You just had to jump in. The riddle wasn't something you solved by thinking—it was something you solved by doing.