Riddle at the Palm

Marcus wiped his sweating palms on his jeans—again. The baseball camp his dad had signed him up for was basically social torture. He'd already struck out twice, missed a fly ball that everyone except him saw coming, and now Coach was making them run laps in the July heat while his teammates vibed like they'd all been best friends since kindergarten.

After practice, the group headed to the community pool for free swim. Marcus usually skipped this part—too much showing off his zero-pack physique—but today, he'd left his towel on the bleachers. When he returned, a girl was sitting on the bench beneath the old palm tree that shaded the back fence.

She wore oversized headphones and read a book titled something about ancient Egypt. Marcus froze. This was Lexi, the sphinx of sophomore year—gorgeous, mysterious, seemingly impenetrable. She looked up, and Marcus's brain short-circuited like lightning striking a transformer.

"You're in my seat," she said, but she was almost smiling.

"Oh, sorry, I was just—"

"Chill, I'm messing with you." She closed her book. "You're that baseball guy, right? The one who keeps striking out?"

Marcus felt his face burn. "Yeah, that's me. Total failure at sports."

"Hey, at least you're trying." Lexi tilted her head. "I've got a riddle for you. What gets bigger the more you take away?"

"Uh..." Marcus's palms were sweating again. "I don't know. A hole?"

"Not bad." Lexi actually smiled this time. "You're smarter than you look, Baseball Guy."

"Marcus."

"I'm Lexi." She stood up, grabbed her towel. "Same time tomorrow? I've got more riddles where that came from."

"Yeah," Marcus managed, as she walked away. "Tomorrow."

Floating on his back in the pool ten minutes later, watching the palm fronds sway against the sky, Marcus realized something: he might suck at baseball, but he'd just won at something way more important. And his palms had finally stopped sweating.