Riddles at the Deep End

My black beanie stayed glued to my head even in August, a total vibe-killer according to my best friend Kai. But it was my armor, my way of existing without fully being seen. I'd perfected the art of being the fly on the locker room wall, the human equivalent of incognito mode. Basically, I was a spy in the war zone that was sophomore year, gathering intel from the sidelines.

Then Zara transferred in from Seattle, looking like she'd walked straight out of a mythology textbook with those sharp, knowing eyes. Someone whispered she'd won a national Sphinx competition—whatever that meant. By day three, half the school was calling her "the Sphinx" behind her back. She sat alone at lunch, surrounded by a fortress of AP books and zero interest in anyone's validation. Goals, honestly.

The invite to Kai's pool party landed with predictable timing. My phone's charging cable had frayed to the point of being useless, leaving me at 4% with no way to fake a bathroom scroll escape. The thought of being trapped poolside without my digital crutch had my stomach doing laps.

But I went. Because growth, or whatever.

The backyard transformed into a socially charged minefield. Popular kids cannonballed. Couples made out in the shallow end. And there I was, clutching my towel like a lifeline, wishing I could dissolve into the patio concrete.

"You're not swimming?" Zara appeared beside me, somehow dry despite the splash zone. "You know what the Sphinx asked Oedipus?"

I stared at her. Water dripped from my hair, plastering it to my forehead. "That's your icebreaker?"

"What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?" She wasn't smiling, but something flickered behind those eyes. Understanding. "The answer changes, but it's still you."

I looked at the pool. At everyone performing their assigned roles. At my hat, discarded on a lawn chair.

"The answer is 'a human,'" I said, stepping toward the water. "But I'm still figuring out the riddle."

She grinned—actually grinned. "Welcome to the club."

My first cannonball wasn't graceful. My hair looked ridiculous plastered to my face. The hat stayed on the lawn chair. And for the first time, I didn't want to spy anymore. I wanted to actually be seen.