Riddle of the Backyard Sphinx

The house party thumped against my ribs like a second heartbeat. Three weeks into sophomore year and I still felt like I'd been invited under false pretenses. Like maybe someone would point at me and shout, "Wait, you don't actually know the handshake!"

I found myself by the snack table, staring at what looked like chunks of alien fruit.

"That's papaya," said a voice behind me. "It's basically edible spa water."

I turned to see Jordan—the Jordan who'd sat behind me in English last year and somehow made it through The Great Gatsby without once being called on. Their eyes were this impossible amber color, like they'd stolen them from a cat.

"I'm Maya," I said, and immediately wanted to die. Who says their name unprompted? A weirdo, that's who.

But Jordan just grinned. "I know. We had that whole awkward moment where you called me 'not-Jason' for three weeks straight."

Heat crawled up my neck. "That was a dark time."

"The Dark Times," Jordan agreed solemnly. "Before I became the legendary Jordan, solver of riddles, knower of tropical fruits."

Their friend group had gathered by the back door. They looked like they belonged together in one of those TikTok edits where everyone's outfits coordinate perfectly. I suddenly remembered I was wearing my dad's old band t-shirt and jeans that had seen better days.

"You coming?" Jordan asked.

"What if I don't fit in?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

Jordan studied me for a second, head tilted like a curious dog. "You know what a sphinx is?"

"The Egyptian thing with the riddles?"

"Exactly. Everyone thinks the sphinx is this ancient wisdom-keeper, but really? She's just guarding her own mystery. She's not supposed to make sense to everyone. That's the whole point." Jordan's expression softened. "You don't have to solve yourself tonight, Maya. You're allowed to just be."

Something cracked open in my chest. Not like breaking—like lightning, bright and sudden and illuminating everything at once. These people weren't a test I had to pass. They were just people.

"Okay," I said. "Yeah. I'm coming."

Jordan's dog—a chaotic golden retriever—chose that moment to barrell into the room with a stolen slipper, tripping someone and sending papaya everywhere. We both dissolved into laughter, and I finally, finally felt like I'd arrived.