Riddle Under the Hat

Maya pulled the brim of her dad's old fedora lower, like maybe if she disappeared enough, nobody would notice she was currently dying inside. The cafeteria noise hit maximum decibel — everyone discussing the Winter Formal like it was the United Nations Peace Summit.

"You taking those?" Riley asked, nodding at the orange bottle Maya was clutching like a lifeline.

"Vitamin D," Maya muttered. "Mom's convinced I'm deficient. Apparently, sitting in your room on TikTok for six hours straight doesn't count as sunlight."

Riley snorted, which was exactly why Maya was lowkey obsessed with her. Riley didn't do the cafeteria hierarchy thing. She just existed, effortlessly, while Maya spent every social interaction calculating twenty moves ahead like a *sphinx* guarding some ancient secret — except the secret was just that she had no idea who she was supposed to be.

"So, the Formal," Riley said, casual as hell, like her heart wasn't probably also doing that thing where it forgot how to cardiac rhythm properly. "You going?"

Maya's stomach did something Olympic-gymnast-level. "I mean. Probably not. I don't really do the whole..." She gestured vaguely at everything.

"Yeah, same." Riley leaned in closer. "But, like, what if we didn't go? What if we, hypothetically, went somewhere else? Just us?"

The vitamin bottle slipped from Maya's sweaty grip and clattered across the table. Every head within a ten-foot radius turned to stare.

"Smooth," Riley whispered, grinning. "Real smooth."

Maya's face burned hotter than the sun that was apparently supposed to be curing her vitamin deficiency. But Riley was still smiling, and somehow that made everything okay.

"Pick you up at seven?" Riley asked, like this wasn't the most important moment of Maya's entire sixteen years of existence.

"Seven," Maya agreed, and realized she was still wearing the stupid fedora. Whatever. The hat could stay. It was doing important work.