Riddles in the Cafeteria

Maya's mom had shoved the bottle of neon-orange gummy vitamins into her backpack that morning, like they held the secret to surviving sophomore year. 'Vitamin D for mood!' she'd chirped, completely missing that Maya's mood problems had less to do with sunlight and more to do with the walking human enigma named Jordan, who currently sat three tables away in the cafeteria, looking like they knew something nobody else did.

Barnaby — Maya's ancient, judgmental cat — would've hated Jordan. Barnaby hated everyone except Maya and the delivery guy who brought the salmon treats. But Barnaby wasn't here, and Maya was, caught in that weird social paralysis where wanting to talk to someone and actually talking to them felt like entirely different species of impossible.

Jordan was like a human sphinx, perched with their lunch tray, issuing silent challenges to anyone brave enough to approach. Maya had spent six months watching from her usual table with the chess club crew, who were cool in their own way but definitely not Jordan.

'Just go over there,' whispered Chloe, her best friend since fourth grade, who'd witnessed Maya's Jordan saga from day one. 'What's the worst that happens?'

'Public humiliation? Social death? Having to transfer schools?'

'Drama queen,' Chloe said, but she was smiling. 'Go. Before I do it for you.'

Maya's hands were actually shaking. This was stupid. It was just Jordan. Just a person who liked vintage band tees and had really good hair and sat alone reading books with covers in languages Maya couldn't identify.

She stood up. The cafeteria noise seemed to spike. Thirty steps to Jordan's table. Twenty-nine. Her palms were sweating. Eighteen. This was it — the moment of truth, the riddle without an answer, the sphinx waiting at the gates of whatever came next.

Jordan looked up. Their eyes met.

'Is this seat taken?' Maya heard herself say, sounding weirdly calm, like someone else had borrowed her voice for the most important moment of her life so far.

Jordan's slow smile was like sun breaking through clouds. 'No,' they said, closing their book. 'But I've been hoping someone would ask.'

Outside the cafeteria windows, the actual sun was shining. Maya's mom would be so pleased about all that Vitamin D. Sometimes the universe really did work itself out.

Barnaby would've been proud. Probably.