Riddles by the Pool

Maya smoothed her sunscreen-sticky hands down her bikini bottoms for the third time. The countdown timer in her head ticked down: 47, 46, 45... until she'd have to actually swim in Carlos's cousin's pool.

"Yo, Maya! You coming in or what?" Carlos called from the water, splashing water toward her lounging chair.

"Just vibing," she lied, watching a papaya slice slide off someone's plate and land plop-side down on the concrete. A papaya. At a pool party. Because of course Carlos's rich cousin's family would serve exotic fruit instead of, like, normal chips.

The biggest mystery of the summer sat cross-legged on the diving board, examining her cuticles like they held the secrets to the universe. Skylar. Who'd shown up two weeks ago with zero warning, wearing a vintage band tee that everyone pretended to recognize, and somehow become the center of their friend group overnight.

Maya's friends called Skylar "the Sphinx" because she never gave straight answers. Where are you from? "Somewhere not here." What's your Instagram? "I don't do social." What's with the scar on your chin? "Pool accident." Obvious lies. But no one called her on it. No one except Maya.

A golden retriever paddled toward Skylar, its tail creating ripples that distorted Maya's view. Someone's dog, wandering in from who-knows-where. Skylar reached down, scratching behind its ears with surprising gentleness.

"Lost dog, lost girl," Maya whispered to herself, then immediately felt bad. She was projecting. Her therapist would have a field day.

"You gonna stare all day or actually say something?"

Maya jumped. Skylar was suddenly standing over her, dog in tow, droplets falling from her hair like she'd materialized from nowhere. Up close, her eyes weren't mysterious at all—just tired, with the slightest hint of something Maya couldn't place.

"I..." Maya's voice cracked. "I was just—"

"Wondering if I'm a real person?" Skylar raised an eyebrow. "If I actually have a backstory? If I'm, what, an alien? A government experiment?"

"I was gonna say 'wondering why you're hanging out with us,' actually."

Skylar's expression shifted. Something cracked.

"Because you guys don't ask questions," she said quietly. "Because you're weirdly okay with not knowing things. My last friend group? They'd have doxxed me by day three."

The dog settled between them, its golden fur already drying in the sun. A papaya slice lay abandoned near the pool edge.

"We're not cool," Maya said. "We're just tired." Then, after a beat: "Wanna get papaya off the ground before someone slips and sues?"

Skylar's mouth curved. "That's the most normal thing anyone's said to me all summer."

And just like that, the Sphinx wasn't a riddle anymore. Just a girl who picked fruit off the ground and let dogs drool on her vintage tees. Maybe that was better. Maybe riddles were overrated anyway.