Riddle of the Cafeteria Sphinx

The vitamin C packet crinkled in my pocket like a nervous heartbeat. Mom had shoved it there before first period, her eyes doing that worried thing they always did lately. "For your immune system, Leo. Flu season's coming."

But the only thing catching was my crush on Maya, aka the Sphinx.

That's what everyone called her. Not because she was mysterious—which she definitely was—but because she sat at the back of the cafeteria like she was guarding ancient secrets, surrounded by empty seats like a moat. Cross that threshold, and you had to prove yourself worth her time. Most people chickened out.

I'd been watching her for weeks. The way she'd look up from her sketchbook, eyes scanning the room like she was solving everyone before they even spoke. Last Tuesday, Tyler had tried to hit on her with some smooth line about her hair. She'd just looked at him and said, "What's your favorite word?" When he'd panicked and said, "Uh, cool?" she'd gone back to drawing like he'd already failed a test he didn't know existed.

A test. That's what it was. The Sphinx's riddle.

Today, I was going to finally cross the moat.

My hands were sweating. The vitamin packet was basically dissolving against my hip. What would she ask? What if I froze up like Tyler? What if—

Maya looked up. Her eyes locked on mine.

I stopped breathing.

She crooked one finger. Just one. A summoning.

My feet moved before my brain could panic. The cafeteria noise faded to static. The moat parted. I slid into the chair across from her, heart hammering.

"Hey," she said. Her voice was quieter than I expected, almost gentle. "I've been watching you watching me."

"Oh. Uh." Smooth, Leo. Award-winning.

She smiled. Just a little. "You know what foxes do?"

"What?"

"They watch. They wait. They learn everything before they make their move." She pushed her sketchbook toward me. It was filled with foxes—dozens of them, in every pose. Foxes watching from trees. Foxes curled in sleep. Foxes with intelligent eyes that saw everything.

"You're the fox," she said.

I stared at the drawings. "You drew all these... because of me?"

"I draw what interests me." She leaned in. "So here's my riddle, fox. What are you going to do now that you've finally pounced?"

The vitamin packet crinkled as I shifted, the sound breaking the tension. We both looked down.

"Is that..." She started laughing. "Are you carrying emergency vitamins?"

My face burned. "My mom. She's—"

"That's adorable." She was full-on smiling now, and it was like the sun coming out. "My grandma does the same thing. I have, like, three vitamin D packets in my bag right now."

"Really?"

"Sphinxes get sick too, fox." She slid a pencil across the table. "Draw something. Anything. If I like it, you sit with me tomorrow."

I picked up the pencil. My hand was shaking. But Maya just watched, like she already knew what I'd create.

The fox had finally caught something. And for the first time, I didn't feel like running away.