Riddles Behind The Courts

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. First week at Jefferson High, and somehow she'd let Jessica talk her into trying out for the padel team.

"You'll be fine," Jessica had said, flipping her hair with the confidence of someone who'd been popular since kindergarten. "Coach says beginners are welcome. Plus, Lucas definitely watches practice."

Lucas. The same Lucas who sat behind Maya in pre-calc, whose shampoo smelled like expensive cedar, who had smiled at her in the hallway Tuesday and made her forget her own locker combination.

Now here she was, clutching a borrowed racquet like it might bite, standing on court #4 behind the gym. The school's mascot — a spray-painted sphinx statue that someone had drawn eyebrows on last year — loomed near the fence, judging everyone silently.

"Alright, newbies!" Coach Martinez's voice cut through her spiraling. "Let's see what you've got."

Maya stepped onto the court. Her sneakers squeaked. Someone giggled. She prayed to every deity she could name that she wouldn't trip.

The ball came flying at her. She swung. Connected. The ball ricocheted off the back wall and bounced perfectly back toward her opponent's feet.

"Not bad!" Lucas materialized at the fence, watching. "Nice form."

Maya's brain short-circuited. She might have made a sound. It was definitely not a word.

"Hey, you got something in your teeth," Jessica whispered loudly from the sidelines. "Is that... spinach?"

It was. From the smoothie she'd chugged earlier because magazines said they gave you "glow." What they actually gave you was green flecks permanently lodged in your molars until you personally excavated them.

The sphinx seemed especially smug now.

Maya's face burned hotter than a pizza oven. She prepared her Walk of Shame off the court, her life effectively over, her social deader than disco, she would move to Antarctica and change her name to...

"Here." Lucas held out a hand. His palm was warm against hers as he pulled her aside. "Jessica's been saying you're good at, like, actual riddles. Sphinx riddles. The philosophy club meets Thursdays if you're interested."

He pointed at the graffiti on the statue. The eyebrows were actually kind of genius.

"I drew those," he admitted, scratching his neck. "Thought the sphinx could use some personality."

Maya stared at him, then at the spinach-free reflection in her phone screen, then back at Lucas. "I... I actually love terrible puns."

"Perfect." His smile was different from the hallway one — smaller, realer. "We need more people who get it."