Riddles at the Finish Line

Maya's lungs burned like she'd swallowed fire. Cross-country practice at Oak Creek Hills meant death by incline, and Coach Hernandez was in one of his moods.

"You're running with your brain, Martinez! Your legs know what to do!"

She hated when he was right.

After practice, Maya slumped against the gym wall, dripping sweat that probably wasn't cute. Her best friend Jada plopped beside her, holding out something orange and weirdly lumpy.

"Papaya," Jada said, already digging into her own with a spoon. "My mom's on this tropical fruit kick. It's actually fuego."

Maya took the spoon. The papaya was sweet, kind of musky, not bad but not something she'd ever choose. "So," Jada said, nudging her. "You gonna tell me what's up with you and Lucas, or am I gonna have to guess like I'm the Sphinx at the museum field trip?"

Maya almost choked on fruit. "There's no 'me and Lucas.' I smiled at him once in chem because he dropped his beaker and it was tragic."

"He's been lowkey staring at you for weeks," Jada said. "And you've been weirdly intense about running. Something's eating you."

The Sphinx. That stupid field trip last month where the whole cluster of them had stood around the Egyptian exhibit, Lucas included, while Mr. Henderson went on about riddles and wisdom. Maya had caught Lucas looking at her instead of the statue.

"I don't know, Jada. I've been... I feel like everyone expects me to have this figured out. Grades, college, running, boys." Maya gestured helplessly. "Like there's some right answer and I keep guessing wrong."

Jada snorted. "Girl, you're sixteen. The only thing you're supposed to have figured out is that papaya tastes weird and boys are confusing."

But that night, Maya couldn't sleep. She laced up her shoes and slipped out the door, running past dark houses and streetlights that painted everything ghost-blue. Running was the only time her brain went quiet.

Until she saw him.

Lucas was sitting on the bench by the elementary school, phone in hand, looking miserable. He jumped when Maya slowed to a jog.

"Everything okay?" she called.

He stared at her, then laughed nervously. "My parents are fighting. I needed to not be there for a minute."

Maya sat beside him. Not close, but not far.

"You run a lot," Lucas said after a minute. "Coach says you're the fastest girl he's had in years."

"Running's easier than thinking."

"Yeah." He looked at her, really looked at her. "I keep wanting to ask you to hang, but then I remember you're Maya Martinez and I'm the guy who dropped a beaker in chem."

Maya felt her face get hot. "I remember that. It was extremely tragic."

"Tragic," he agreed, smiling. "So. You wanna run together tomorrow? Before school?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

The Sphinx's riddle wasn't about who you were supposed to become. It was about letting yourself figure it out, step by step. And maybe papaya wasn't so bad once you got used to it.