Riddles Under the Palm

Maya's palms were sweating—like, actually dripping—and she wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time. House parties weren't really her vibe, but Chloe had promised it would be "low-key and chill," which everyone knew was teen code for "standing around awkwardly while pretending to have fun."

"You good?" Chloe asked, already distracted by some junior boys near the soda cooler.

"Yeah, just need some air," Maya mumbled, slipping toward the backyard.

The patio was dimly lit, strung with those fairy lights that every influencer seemed obsessed with. She almost stepped on something furry—Chloe's cat, Sphinx, who was judging everyone with ancient Egyptian energy. The cat's name was peak Chloe, who was "really into mythology" last month before switching to her "astrology era."

Maya sank onto a lounge chair, pulling her beanie down. The hat was her security blanket—without it, she felt exposed, like everyone could see all the things she was trying to figure out: who she was, who she liked, why she still felt like a kid when everyone else seemed to have their life together.

"Nice hat," said a voice behind her.

Maya jumped. It was Ryan from her English class, holding a paper plate with what looked like—a single spinach leaf? "Is that... all you're eating?"

He shrugged, sitting on the adjacent chair. "My mom's on this health kick. I came for pizza, found this instead. And I was gonna say you look better without the hat, but that sounded creepy in my head, so pretend I didn't say anything."

Maya laughed despite herself. "Pretend you didn't say the part about me looking better, or pretend you didn't say it sounded creepy?"

"Yes."

They sat there while the party rumbled inside, talking about nothing and everything. Ryan complained about his cross country coach, Maya admitted she'd never watched an episode of Euphoria, they bonded over mutual confusion about why everyone pretended to like coffee.

"You know," Ryan said eventually, "the Sphinx was supposed to have all these riddles. But like, what's the riddle of being sixteen? Why is everything so weird and intense and nobody talks about it?"

Maya looked at him, really looked. Maybe that was it—everyone was stuck with their own riddle, their own secret question they were trying to answer. "I think the riddle is figuring out who you actually are when you stop trying to be who everyone expects."

Ryan nodded slowly. "That was deep. I was just gonna say the riddle is why school starts at 7 AM, but yours is better."

Maya took off her hat. "Yeah, mine's better."

And for the first time all night, she wasn't sweating. Not even a little bit.