Riddles Under the Pyramid

The Sphinx at hole three stared at me with its weird painted eyes, probably judging my outfit. I'd been working at Pyramid Putt-Putt for three weeks, and the fiberglass Egyptian decorations still felt like they were watching my every move.

My iPhone buzzed in my apron pocket. Again.

u coming to jake's party tonight???

everyone's gonna be there

hello???

I sighed, wiping down the plastic pyramid that served as hole six's obstacle. The social hierarchy at Northwood High was basically a pyramid itself, and Jake sat at the apex. Being invited to his party meant I'd finally cracked the code to being seen.

But my grandma was in the hospital. Again.

"Maya, your bear is staring at me," Leo called from hole four. He pointed at my childhood stuffed bear that I'd stupidly brought to work for comfort.

"Shut up, Leo." My face burned.

Leo worked the counter. He was funny and weird and didn't care about being popular. Last week he'd told me, "The real riddle isn't what the Sphinx asks. It's what you're brave enough to answer."

My phone buzzed.

r u avoiding me?? seriously??

I looked at the Sphinx's painted smile. Ancient riddle-keeper. Keeper of impossible questions.

What happens when you get what you think you want?

I typed back: sorry. can't make it. family stuff.

Then I turned off my phone.

"Leo," I called. "After work, want to get food?"

His face lit up. "Finally. I was beginning to think you'd never ask."

The Sphinx seemed to approve.