Riddles at the Net

The vitamin gummies clanked in my backpack as I walked toward the community center. Mom's idea, obviously — "for energy and focus" she'd said, handing me the bottle like it contained the secret to surviving sophomore year. Right now, the only thing I needed focus for was not tripping over my own feet.

"You're crushing it, Marcus!" Jake yelled from across the padel court. He'd already invited me to three parties this week. This was my problem — I was good at making friends think I was chill, when actually I was overthinking every convo like my life depended on it.

Coach Chen stood near the net, arms crossed. We called her the Sphinx behind her back because she'd ask these impossible questions right when you were mid-serve. Stuff like, "What's your real reason for being out here, Reynolds?" while you're sweating through your shirt and everyone's watching.

Today she caught me after practice. "You're playing someone else's game, Marcus."

I shrugged. "Just trying to fit in."

"Fitting in and belonging aren't the same thing." She tilted her head. "What would you do if nobody was watching?"

That night, my phone died right as Maya finally texted me back. I'd left my charging cable at Jake's. No way to get it tonight. So I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, actually thinking about what Coach Chen said.

Maybe I was taking those vitamin gummies because Mom said they'd help. Maybe I played padel because Jake did. Maybe I laughed at jokes I didn't find funny because silence felt worse.

Next practice, I served straight into the net. Coach Chen raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"I'd quit," I said, surprising myself. "If nobody was watching, I'd quit padel and join the robotics club."

Jake looked confused. "Bro, since when?"

"Since always," I said, and it felt like finally exhaling.

Coach Chen actually smiled. "There he is."

That night I texted Maya first, charging cable be damned. Some riddles you solve by asking better questions.