Riddle of the cafeteria sphinx

Maya's fork pushed the soggy spinach around her tray like it was radioactive waste.

"You gonna eat that or just traumatize it?" Jace slid onto the bench across from her, dropping his backpack with a thud.

"Not hungry. Nailed the presentation though." Maya tried to sound chill but her voice betrayed her—still shaky from adrenaline.

The school cafeteria buzzed with lunch chaos, trays clattering, people shouting across tables. Maya felt like she was underwater, sounds muffled and distant. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"You're spiraling," Jace said, stealing a carrot from her tray. "It went fine. Nobody even noticed you were lowkey panicking."

"I froze for like, seven seconds, Jace. That's eternity in presentation time. The whole Egyptian mythology unit and I'm up there like—"

"Like what?"

"Like a cat seeing a cucumber. Just frozen. Completely locked up." Maya buried her face in her hands. "Mr. Harrison asked me about the sphinx's riddle and my brain was just... loading screen for eternity."

Jace laughed. "Bro, you recovered. You said the whole thing about Oedipus and wisdom and whatever. It was actually kinda sick."

"Kinda sick isn't the vibe I was going for."

"What vibe were you going for?"

Maya didn't answer. She didn't know how to explain it—that she wanted to be the person who could just talk, cool and collected, without overthinking every word until her chest felt tight and the walls closed in. That she wanted to be someone who didn't care what people thought.

The truth was, she'd been running from this presentation for weeks. Avoiding it, procrastinating, spiraling.

She stood up suddenly. "I need air."

"Maya—"

She was already moving, pushing through the crowd, bursts of laughter and conversation swirling around her like static. The double doors swung open and she stepped outside into cool autumn air.

Her phone buzzed. Mom: "How did it go??"

Maya stared at the message, thumbs hovering over the screen. Behind her, through the glass, she could see Jace watching, concerned. Inside, everyone was eating and talking and existing like it was nothing.

She typed back: "Good. It went good."

Then she opened her notes app and found the draft she'd been writing since seventh grade:

THINGS I'M ACTUALLY PROUD OF:

(1) Survived that presentation

(2) My cat, Mochi, who doesn't judge me when I cry

(3) Still here

She added: (4) Running toward scary things anyway

Maya took a deep breath, pulled the door open, and walked back inside.