Riddle in the Storm

Maya adjusted her vintage dad **hat** for the third time, nervous energy radiating through her fingertips. The house party pulsed with music she didn't recognize, faces she'd seen on Instagram but never in person. Her phone buzzed — her **iPhone** lit up with a notification from her crush: "u coming?"

She froze outside, debating. The spring storm had intensified. **Lightning** cracked across the sky, illuminating the backyard like a camera flash at a concert. In that moment of clarity, she spotted Jordan — the one person who made her feel like she didn't need to perform — sitting alone on the back porch steps.

"Hey," Maya said, sinking down beside them. Thunder rolled.

"Sup." Jordan nudged her shoulder. "What's that face?"

"I don't belong here. Everyone's so..."

"Performative?" Jordan finished, then smirked. "No cap."

They both laughed, tension dissolving.

"My phone's dead anyway," Maya admitted. "And I've been staring at this Egyptian mythology meme all day." She pulled up the screenshot on Jordan's phone — a **sphinx** with the caption: "I'm just here for the riddles not the answers."

Jordan snorted. "Deep. Also literally us at this party."

The rain began, warm and steady. They didn't move. Instead, they stayed on those steps, talking about everything and nothing — how it felt to be sixteen in a world where everyone else seemed to have the script but them. By the time her parents came to pick her up, Maya's anxiety had washed away with the storm.

"Same time next Friday?" Jordan asked.

"Bet," Maya grinned, finally adjusting her hat with confidence instead of nerves.

Some riddles didn't need answers. They just needed someone to help you ask them.