Riddle of the Concrete Sphinx
Marcus stood before the concrete sphinx behind the baseball field, clutching his iPhone like a lifeline. The statue's chipped wing painted in school colors watched silently as he swiped through Instagram stories—everyone at Tyler's party except him.
Again.
His phone buzzed. *Baseball tryouts tomorrow. Don't choke.* From Jordan. Marcus groaned. Last season's playoff dropout still haunted his dreams. But tonight, something else haunted him.
The sphinx had started appearing in hisSnapchats. Weird, right? First his friend Lena posted it with the caption *I tell it my secrets.* Then his crush Sam posted it: *I told it yours.* What secrets? What did Sam know?
Marcus's thumb hovered over Sam's chat. *What did you tell the sphinx?* He deleted it. Too desperate. *Cool pic?* Deleted. *I heard people confess stuff there?* Deleted.
The sphinx's stone face seemed to mock his overthinking. Just DM Sam, idiot. But his 472 unread notifications, three group chats exploding with drama, and constant baseball pressure made everything feel
INTENSE.
He noticed something taped to the sphinx's base. A piece of notebook paper. *Leave your confession here. The sphinx keeps secrets better than your group chat.*
Marcus laughed. Who had time for this middle school nonsense? But his fingers moved before his brain caught up. He dug a sharpie from his backpack and scrawled: *I'm terrified I'll never be good enough at baseball. Also I really like Sam but they're way out of my league.*
His phone pinged. *Hey, what are you doing back there?* Sam.
*Nothing,* Marcus typed. Then deleted. Then: *Just thinking about tryouts.*
*Wanna walk over to the field? I need to practice anyway.*
Marcus stared at his phone. The sphinx watched. The baseball field stretched beyond, dark and waiting. His Instagram stories would keep. His notifications could wait.
He stuck his phone in his pocket and started walking.
The next morning, Marcus found a note under the sphinx: *You're already good enough. PS—I like you too.*
His iPhone buzzed with a hundred notifications. But Marcus just smiled and grabbed his baseball glove. Some things were better than WiFi.