Riddles in the Bull Costume

Marcus regretted everything. Especially agreeing to wear the bull costume for homecoming.

The polyester suit smelled like three years of freshman sweat. Being the mascot was supposed to be hilarious—a flex for the group chat. Instead, here he was, alone in the bathroom while the football game roared outside, trying to figure out why his best friend since kindergarten had been ghosting him for two weeks.

Then she walked in.

Zahra. The new girl who'd transferred in three weeks ago and already had the entire school obsessed. She was inscrutable, calm, ancient somehow—like a sphinx dropped into the middle of suburban Texas. She knew everyone's secrets. Nobody knew hers.

"Nice horns," she said, leaning against the sink. Her eyes held that zero-calories look—assessing, amused, completely unimpressed.

Marcus fought the urge to rip off the bull head. "Thanks. It's for the bit. You know, for the 'gram."

"But you're not posting it."

He paused. "How'd you—"

"You've been in here twenty minutes. A real content creator would've milked this in three." She popped an orange. Like, actually just produced an orange from her jacket pocket and started peeling it. The citrus scent cut through the bathroom funk. "Your friend—the one who's been hanging with the varsity crowd—he's out there telling everyone you bailed."

Marcus's stomach dropped. "Ty wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't he?" She met his eyes. "People shed old versions of themselves when they think they're upgrading. You're still the middle school friend. He's trying to be someone new."

The bull head felt heavier suddenly. "So what, I just let him go?"

"That's a riddle you have to solve yourself." She tossed him a segment of orange. "But real friends don't make you wear the bull costume alone."

Marcus caught it. The citrus burst on his tongue, sharp and bright. Outside, the crowd erupted—someone had scored.

"Go out there," Zahra said. "But take off the head first."

He did. And when he walked onto that field, not as a mascot but as himself, Ty actually looked surprised. Like he'd forgotten Marcus could choose not to play his part.

The sphinx was right: some riddles solve themselves when you stop letting other people write the questions.