Riddles by the Deep End

The neighborhood pool was the undisputed capital of our summer kingdom. That's where Jordan held court, every strand of wet-dark hair perfectly placed, every laugh calibrated to maximum impact. I was just the satellite orbiting her brilliance, clutching my towel like a shield against the universe.

"You're not actually swimming," she said, droplets sliding down her arms like they had nowhere better to be. "You're just... existing near water."

My face burned. Jordan had this way of making everything sound like both a compliment and an indictment.

"I'm thinking deeply," I protested, which was half-true. I was thinking about how my crush had lasted approximately forever and how I should probably get over myself and actually talk to her instead of mooning from the shallow end like a cryptic message no one could decode.

"You're like a sphinx," Jordan announced suddenly, floating on her back. "Mysterious. Enigmatic. Possibly full of ancient wisdom but mostly just staring mysteriously into the middle distance."

I snorted. "That's the most backhanded compliment anyone's ever given me."

"It's not a compliment! It's an observation." She splashed water at me, grinning. "Anyway, sphinxes ask riddles. Got one for me?"

My brain short-circuited. This was it—the opening I'd been waiting for all summer. But instead of saying something smooth or asking about her weekend or suggesting we hang out sometime, I heard myself blurt out: "What gets wetter the more it dries?"

Jordan stared at me. The silence stretched. Somewhere, a diving board thunked.

"A towel," she said finally, nodding slowly. "That's... actually pretty good."

"Yeah?" Hope rose like bile.

"Yeah. But you know what's better?" She swam closer, until our knees brushed underwater. "Asking me to get frozen yogurt after this closes."

I nearly drowned in three feet of water. "Yes. I mean—yes, absolutely."

"Cool." She grinned like she'd just won something. "Solve that riddle and we're even."