Riddles on the Court

Mateo leaned against the ancient sphinx statue in the courtyard, scrolling through Instagram while pretending to wait for someone. Anyone. The concrete lion-human hybrid had been the school's unofficial meeting spot since forever, its cracked face wearing the same bored expression as every junior trying to look busy during lunch.

"Dude, you coming to padel today?" Jason called from across the quad, his voice cutting through the awkward silence like a whistle. "Tryouts are tomorrow, and Coach said she's cutting half the roster."

Padel. The sport Mateo had been bullshitting about for three weeks straight. "Yeah, definitely," he yelled back, giving a thumbs-up that felt heavier than it should. "Just finishing something up."

The sphinx seemed to mock him. Its riddle was simple: How long until everyone finds out you've never actually played?

He'd been faking it since Jason first mentioned it at that house party—"Oh yeah, padel, I used to play with my cousin"—and now it had snowballed into a full-blown personality trait. Mateo, the Padel Guy. Except he'd never even held a paddle.

"You okay?" Maya appeared beside him, leaning against the sphinx's base. She had that way of seeing straight through people's BS. "You look like you're about to puke."

"Just tired," Mateo said, but his voice cracked.

"The tryouts," she said. It wasn't a question. "You're nervous."

"I'm not—that's not—"

"You know," she said, "nobody actually cares if you're good. Jason just wants someone to hang with. His dad's making him try out, and he's terrified." She smirked. "We've all been bullshitting about something this whole year."

Mateo stared at her, then at the sphinx, then at himself reflected in its stone eyes. "Wait, really?"

"Dude." She laughed. "I told everyone I went to that music festival over spring break. I was at my grandma's house binge-watching Netflix."

The weight in his chest dissolved. "So if I show up tomorrow and completely suck—"

"We'll laugh about it and get boba after. Like we do with everything else." She headed toward the parking lot. "Six AM. Bring a racket. Or don't. Either way, just show up."

Mateo pushed off the sphinx, finally seeing it for what it was: just a statue that teenagers projected their insecurities onto. The real riddle wasn't about being cool. It was about showing up anyway.

"Hey Maya," he called. "What's boba?"

She turned, walking backward. "You'll find out tomorrow, Padel Guy."

He grinned, pulling out his phone to Google "padel" and "boba" in the same breath. The sphinx kept its secrets, but Mateo was done hiding his.