Riddles at the Pool

Maya's summer was spiraling into a disaster. At the community pool, where she'd finally summoned the courage to talk to Leo—the dreamy junior with the dimple and perfect messy hair—she'd just humiliated herself.

"Palm reading, really?" Leo teased, grinning as Maya's clammy palms trembled.

"My cousin taught me," she lied. In truth, her palms were sweating because she'd nearly choked earlier when three pieces of spinach had wedged between her teeth right before saying hello. She'd spent twenty minutes in the bathroom picking them out with her fingernail while Leo waited outside.

"Okay, sphinx face," Leo said, tapping her nose. "What's my fortune?"

Maya froze. She knew nothing about palm reading. But then she remembered something her grandmother said: "The best answers come from within."

"You'll figure it out," she said, surprising herself. "But first, you have to stop trying to impress everyone and just swim."

Leo blinked. For a moment, Maya thought she'd blown it completely. Then he laughed—actually laughed, like genuinely amused. "That's surprisingly deep, Maya. You're right. I have been trying too hard."

He kicked off his sandals and dove into the pool, making a perfect splash. When he surfaced, water streaming from his hair, he called, "Your turn! No more fortune telling—just swimming!"

As Maya jumped in, cool water washing away her anxiety, she realized something. The riddle she'd been trying to solve wasn't about impressing Leo or fixing her hair or avoiding embarrassing moments with spinach stuck in her teeth. It was about being herself—clammy palms, bad jokes, and all.

"Told you," Leo said when they climbed out later, dripping and breathless. "Best swim ever."

Maya smiled. Some riddles, she decided, solve themselves when you stop trying so hard.