Riddles Under the Lights

The carnival lights flickered against the night sky as Marco clutched his baseball cap, spinning it in hands that refused to stop sweating. Freshman year was halfway over and he still felt like the awkward transfer student who couldn't crack the social code at Northwood High.

"You gonna stand there all night or actually throw the ball?" his teammate Ty called from the pitcher's mound, where the baseball team was manning the carnival's dunk tank for charity.

Marco shoved his cap back on his head. "Just psyching myself up."

"More like psyching yourself out," Ty laughed, but with the kind of easy grin that made Marco wish he could just relax for once.

He took a deep breath and started his windup, but then he saw HER. Luna. The girl who sat behind him in English, the one who wrote poetry on her arms in silver gel pen and always smelled like vanilla and old books. She was standing by the fortune teller booth, watching him.

His palms went slick. The baseball slipped from his fingers and sailed wide, splashing harmlessly into the water beside the tank.

"Nice throw, transfer boy," someone snickered from the growing crowd.

But Luna was moving through the people, her dark eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his stomach flip. She stopped right in front of him, holding out her hand.

"You're holding it wrong," she said.

"What?"

"Your grip. Too tight." She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his hand, positioning them on the ball. "Relax. Like you're holding something fragile. Something that matters."

Her skin was warm against his. She smelled like vanilla and old books, up close, with something else underneath—like rain.

"You're like a sphinx, you know that?" Marco blurted out. "All mysterious and speaking in riddles."

Luna laughed, and the sound was bright and unexpected. "Maybe I'm just the only one paying attention." She squeezed his hand once, then let go. "Try again. And this time, don't throw it like you're scared it'll bite you."

Marco stared at the ball in his palm, then at Luna, who was watching him with those dark, knowing eyes. He took a breath, started his windup, and threw.

The ball hit the target dead center. The dunk tank seat collapsed, sending Principal Henderson splashing into the water below.

The crowd went wild. Ty was whooping. But Marco only had eyes for Luna, who winked at him before melting back into the carnival lights.

"Yo, Marco! That was insane!" Ty slapped his back. "Where'd you learn to throw like that?"

Marco fingered the silver gel pen he'd swiped from his English class earlier that day, smiling at the secret words he'd written on his own arm. Luna's words.

"Just had the right teacher," he said.