Riddles at the Deep End

The pool wasn't actually that deep, but it felt like it. Especially with Madison Rodriguez standing three feet away, looking like she'd just walked off a TikTok feed and into Jake's backyard bash.

"Yo, Marcus, you gonna swim or just stand there looking like a confused golden retriever?" Tyler's voice cut through the playlist. Your actual dog, Buster, was currently passed out under a lawn chair, living his best life while you died inside.

"I'm thinking," you said, which was the wrong answer because thinking was exactly what made everything worse. Thinking about how your baseball jersey from last season still smelled like locker room despite three washes. Thinking about how Madison had barely looked at you all week, even though you'd been lab partners since September. Thinking about how Sphinx—that ridiculous group chat name you and the boys had come up with during sophomore year because you were "deep"—now felt like evidence of everything that was wrong with you.

The truth was, you didn't know how to be anymore. Sixteen supposed to be about figuring stuff out, but mostly it felt like you were just waiting for something real to happen.

"Marcus!" Madison called. She was actually looking at you. "Tyler says you're the baseball star. Bet you can't hit that can off the fence."

She was pointing at a soda can someone had left on top of the pool fence. A plastic fence. Because of course.

"Watch and learn," you said, grabbing a random tennis ball from the grass. Your baseball instincts kicked in—stance, grip, follow-through. The ball sailed perfectly, knocked the can into the pool with a satisfying splash.

For three seconds, everyone actually clapped. Madison's eyes lit up. "Okay, that was actually sick."

And just like that, the sphinx's riddle solved itself. You weren't confused. You were just overthinking. Sometimes you hit the can, and sometimes you splash, and sometimes—like right now—you jump into a freezing pool with all your clothes on because everyone's chanting your name and Madison is actually laughing at your joke for once.

Buster lifted his head, thumped his tail once, then went back to sleep. Good boy. At least one of you knew how to chill.