Riddles in the Glow

Maya's fingers flew across her **iPhone** screen, the blue light washing over her face in the darkened bedroom. Another Snapchat from Jordan—her best **friend** since third grade, now practically a ghost in real life.

"u coming to the party?" Jordan's message read. "everyone's gonna be there"

Maya stared at the screen. The old Jordan would have just called. The old Jordan would have come over, eaten her mom's burning popcorn, complained about Mrs. G's chemistry test. But eighth grade had changed everything—group chats replaced real conversations, streaks replaced shared secrets.

Their history class had just covered ancient Egypt. Mr. Henderson had shown them pictures of the Great **Sphinx**—that massive limestone creature with the body of a lion and the head of a human, guarding secrets for thousands of years. "The Sphinx was famous for its riddle," he'd said. "Answer wrong, and you'd never see daylight again."

That idea stuck with Maya. Everything these days felt like a riddle she couldn't solve. Why was Jordan acting so different? Why did Maya feel so lonely even with 500 followers? Why did sharing everything online make her feel like she had nothing?

She grabbed her sketchbook—something Jordan didn't know about. Maya had been drawing for months, filling page after page with things she couldn't say out loud. Sphinxes and smartphones, tangled together. Lions made of fiber optic cables. Humans with screens for faces, reflecting everyone else but never themselves.

Her phone buzzed again. "??"

Maya typed out a reply, deleted it. Typed again.

"Remember that sphinx riddle? What walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, three in the evening?"

"lol what?? that's so random. it's a human. duh."

"I know," Maya typed. "But I keep thinking about how it's about change. About how we're always becoming something else."

Jordan didn't reply for three minutes—the longest three minutes of Maya's life. Then: "are you ok?"

"Can I show you something?"

"what"

"Not on here. Can I come over?"

The typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, reappeared. Then: "yeah. mom's making those brownies you like."

Maya set down her phone, grabbed her sketchbook, and finally understood what the Sphinx had been guarding all along—not secrets, but the courage to ask them out loud.