Riddles and Papaya Chunks

Maya stood frozen in the cafeteria line, feeling like a goldfish in a bowl—everyone watching, no place to hide. Behind her, Jake laughed at something Tyler said, that laugh that made her stomach do that stupid flippy thing it always did when he was within ten feet.

"Hey Maya, you gonna stare at the papaya chunks all day or actually try them?" Jake asked, suddenly right there.

She blinked. "Oh. Uh. Maybe?"

"Live a little,." He plopped a scoop of papaya onto his tray. "It's not gonna eat you first."

But Maya's brain was already zombie-fried from three hours of sleep—stupid English paper due at midnight—and her social battery had died approximately third period. Still, she grabbed the papaya because Jake was watching and apparently that's how her brain worked now.

They sat at a table near the window. Maya picked at the papaya while mentally running through escape strategies.

"So," Jake said, "I heard you're obsessed with riddles. Like, actually obsessed."

Maya almost choked on her papaya. "Who told you that?"

"Leo. He said you're like a human sphinx or something. All mysterious with your riddle knowledge."

Maya felt her face heat up. Leo knew about her riddle Instagram account? The one she thought was totally private?

"I mean," Jake continued, totally oblivious to her internal crisis, "I could use some help. There's this riddle my little sister won't stop asking about and I'm too dumb to figure it out."

And just like that, Maya wasn't the goldfish in the bowl anymore. She was someone who could help.

"What's the riddle?" she asked, and her voice actually sounded normal for once.

Jake grinned. "Finally, my sphinx speaks."

Maya rolled her eyes but smiled back. The papaya was actually pretty good.