Riddles at the Deep End

Charlie's palms were sweating so hard he could practically fill a pool. Not that anyone would notice—Jen's pool party already had enough water in it. The in-ground pool stretched like a turquoise promise in her backyard, surrounded by seniors who looked like they'd stepped out of a TikTok feed.

"You look like you're about to puke," whispered his best friend Sam, nudging him. "Just talk to her."

"I can't. Look at her." Maya sat by the pool's edge, her legs dangling in the water. She was like something out of a dream—all constellation freckles and knowing smiles. Next to her lay Jen's weird stone statue of a sphinx that her architect dad had brought back from Egypt. Because rich people just had ancient artifacts lying around, apparently.

"That's such bull," Charlie said. "She's out of my league."

"Dude, you're being a total dog about this. Just go over there."

Sam shoved him. Hard. Charlie stumbled forward, arms pinwheeling like a newborn giraffe on ice. He caught himself, but not before everyone within a ten-foot radius turned to look.

Great. Now he had to commit.

He made his way to the pool's edge, heart hammering against his ribs like lightning trapped in a jar. Maya looked up, droplets sliding down her arm like liquid stars.

"Hey," she said. "Charlie, right?"

"Yeah. Hi."

"Wanna sit?"

She moved over, making space. Charlie lowered himself beside her, carefully not looking at her legs, or her arms, or the way the pool lights made patterns on her skin.

"Jen's parents are kinda extra," he said, gesturing to the sphinx. "Who has an actual Egyptian statue by their pool?"

Maya laughed. "Right? But riddles are kind of her thing. She was making people answer sphinx riddles before they could go swimming earlier."

"Did you...?"

"Nailed it. You know it, but you don't know that you know it, and it's stronger than the gods but weaker than the smallest thought."

Charlie considered it. The answer hovered at the edge of his mind.

"Love," he said quietly. "The answer is love."

Maya's eyes softened. Something passed between them—something electric, like the air before a storm. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.

"You're smarter than you look, Charlie."

"I try."

She splashed water at him. He splashed back.

"Hey!" someone yelled from inside the house. "Storm's coming! Everyone in!"

They both scrambled up, racing toward the back door as the first drops fell. Maya grabbed his hand, and for a moment, time stretched like taffy.

"My number," she said, shoving her phone toward him as they reached the porch. "Put it in before I change my mind."

"Cool," he managed, fingers fumbling as lightning lit up the sky.

He didn't remember much after that—the storm, the chaos of thirty wet teenagers in a kitchen, Jen's mom yelling about water on the floor. But he remembered Maya's laugh, the way her hand had felt in his, and the weight of his phone buzzing in his pocket later that night.

*You make a decent sphinx,* she'd texted.

Charlie grinned at his ceiling, the storm still raging outside. Maybe this high school thing wouldn't be so terrible after all.