Riddles by the Pool

Maya's palms were sweating — like, actually dripping — which was unfortunate because she was currently gripping a red solo cup and trying to look casual at Chloe's legendary pool party. The guest list had been curated with the precision of a social media algorithm, and somehow, she'd made the cut.

The humidity wasn't helping. Her hair, which she'd spent forty minutes curling, had already surrendered to the Florida heat and was now attempting something that could best be described as "haunted frizz ball."

"You look like you're solving a murder in your head," said Jordan, sliding onto the lounge chair next to hers. Maya had had a crush on Jordan since seventh grade, which was approximately forever in teenage time.

"I'm on a mission," she confessed, before she could stop herself. "I'm basically a spy."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Who are you spying on?"

"Chloe's brother. He's been texting someone all night and I'm 87% sure it's Sarah from the math team, but I need confirmation before I update the group chat."

"You are deeply dedicated to the drama," Jordan said, but they were smiling. "Wingman situation? I'll distract him. You look at his phone."

"Like actual partners in crime?"

"Like actual partners in crime."

They executed their mission with the swagger of people who had seen too many heist movies and zero actual criminal experience. The operation revealed nothing about Sarah — turns out, Chase was just weirdly obsessed with a riddle app — but Maya and Jordan spent the rest of the party talking about everything and nothing.

"You're like this sphinx," Jordan said eventually, as the party wound down and people started doing cannonballs in the pool. "All mysterious vibes and riddles. But in a good way."

Maya laughed so hard she almost dropped her phone into the water. "That's literally the weirdest compliment I've ever received."

"Weirder than 'nice hair'?" Jordan gestured at the frizz situation.

"Touché."

The humidity had won. Her hair was a disaster. She'd spilled punch on her shirt earlier. But as Jordan high-fived her — palm to palm, electric and real and somehow not sweaty at all anymore — Maya decided that some things were worth the social anxiety.

Her phone buzzed. The group chat wanted updates. She had nothing good to report, but for the first time all night, she didn't care.