Riddle of the Backyard Sphinx

The house party was already LIT when Maya and I showed up, fashionably late because my mom couldn't find her keys. Classic. The bass hit my chest before we even walked through the door. Someone had blown a speaker, but nobody cared.

Maya, being Maya, disappeared immediately into the crowd. She'd been crushing on Jake since seventh period English, and I could see her already gravitating toward his group near the makeshift dance floor. That left me solo, hovering awkwardly by the snack table like a lost NPC.

"Hey."

I jumped. A guy with messy dark hair and eyes that actually sparkled in the LED lights stood there, holding a red cup. He was cute in that effortless way that made me instantly self-conscious about my outfit choice.

"I'm Leo," he said. "You're new here."

"Chloe," I managed, trying to play it cool. "How'd you know?"

"I'd remember you." He smiled, and I felt my face do that thing where it betrays you completely. "Want to escape? The noise is killing me."

We ended up in the backyard, sitting on the edge of the above-ground pool, feet dangling in the cool water. The night air was refreshing compared to the sauna inside. Leo's family's golden retriever, an ancient dog named Barnaby, flopped down between us like a furry orange barrier.

"So," Leo said, "here's the thing about my sister."

"Your sister?"

"She made this ceramic cat in eighth grade art class. It's supposed to be symbolic of something deep — independence, mystery, whatever. But it looks like a potato with anxiety. She keeps it in her room like it's sacred."

I laughed, and it came out genuine instead of nervous. "That's oddly specific."

"I'm an oddly specific guy." He paused. "Also, I should warn you: I collect random facts. Useless trivia. My brain is basically Wikipedia but without the citations."

"Like what?"

"Okay, here's one." He turned to face me, the party noise fading into background static. "In Greek mythology, the Sphinx had the head of a woman, body of a lion, and wings of an eagle. She asked travelers a riddle, and if they couldn't answer, she ate them."

"Dramatic," I said.

"Very." He leaned in slightly. "But here's what nobody talks about: what if the Sphinx was just lonely? What if she was desperate for someone who actually understood her?"

The question hit me harder than it should have. I thought about Maya abandoning me for Jake, about how I'd spent the whole night feeling like I didn't belong, like everyone else had received some social instruction manual I'd missed.

"Maybe," I said quietly, "she was just protecting herself until she found someone worth letting in."

Leo studied me for a long moment. The crickets started up their nightly symphony. Barnaby the dog let out a soft snore.

"Yeah," Leo said finally. "I like that interpretation better."

"Me too."

"Hey Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad I escaped the party with you."

"Same," I said, and meant it.

We sat there until the sky started lightening, talking about everything and nothing — our weird families, our anxieties about sophomore year, why pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza. By the time Maya texted me that she was leaving with Jake, I'd forgotten I was supposed to be the awkward one.

Some riddles don't need answers. Sometimes you just need someone to sit with you by the water and ask the right questions.