Riddles in the Dugout

I sat on the bench, MLB The Show glazing my iPhone screen while Coach Miller droned on about "being the sphinx of the infield" — whatever that meant. Probably something mysterious and riddle-like, though knowing Coach, it was just his way of saying "keep them guessing."

"You okay, Maya?" Elena slid beside me, her eyes doing that thing where they scan your face like they're reading a text they shouldn't.

"Fine," I said, because that's what you say. Even when you're definitely not fine.

The truth? I was spiraling. Tomorrow was the annual Goldfish Gala — this ridiculous district-wide thing where the baseball team's "Foxes" (because, you know, our mascot is a fox) invite the girls' softball team to dinner, and the whole thing feels like a social minefield wrapped in a questionably themed dance.

My crush, Connor, the starting pitcher who could literally have any girl in school, had actually asked if I was going. And I'd panicked and mumbled something about my mom needing me to babysit my neighbor's literal goldfish.

Smooth, Maya. Real smooth.

"You're overthinking again," Elena said, because she knows me way too well. "Just go. Connor's been staring at you in AP Calc since September.

"I'm not overthinking!" I protested, while definitely overthinking. "It's just — what if it's awkward? What if I say something dumb? What if he realizes I'm not..."

"Not what?" Elena raised an eyebrow. "Not the sphinx who's been dominating at shortstop all season?"

I snorted, but the compliment landed.

Game time. The Foxes versus Central. Connor pitched like he was channeling something supernatural — seventh inning, bases loaded, and he struck out their best hitter looking. The dugout went feral.

After the final out, he found me near the concession stand.

"Hey," he said, scratching the back of his neck like he was nervous. "About tomorrow..."

"Yeah?" My heart did this thing where it forgot how to heart.

"I was wondering if you'd want to go with me? Like, together?"

The goldfish babysitting lie died before it could reach my lips.

"Yeah," I said, and it came out easy. "I'd like that."

His smile was everything.

Later, my iPhone buzzed with a text from Elena: "Told you. The sphinx didn't have to riddle anything. He just had to show up."

I laughed, feeling light for the first time in weeks. Sometimes the scariest riddles have the simplest answers.