Running from the Sphinx

Maya's Converse caught on something—again—sending her face-first toward the linoleum. Her favorite **hat**, a black beanie with 'PROBLEM CHILD' stitched in fading white letters, tumbled off her head and rolled under the bleachers.

"Great. Just what I needed."

She'd been **running** on three hours of sleep since finals week began. Her brain felt like glitchy software, and apparently, so were her motor skills.

"You okay?" A hand extended into her vision. Connected to Jake. Jake-from-chemistry who sat behind her and made terrible puns. Jake whose dimple situation was unfair to the general student population.

Maya's face burned. "Yeah. Just... zombie mode today. You know how it is."

"Oh, totally." Jake nodded, all serious empathy. "I'm basically a **zombie** until third period. Then the coffee hits and I'm a functional member of society."

He retrieved her hat from the bleacher abyss. Dusty, but intact. Their fingers brushed when he handed it back, and Maya's stomach did that annoying fluttery thing that meant absolutely nothing, according to her brain, but absolutely everything, according to her heart.

"So, the English project," Jake said, way too casually. "The **sphinx** riddle thing?"

"Oh. Right."

"I was thinking..." He rubbed his neck. "We could partner up? If you wanted. I mean, I know you're smart and everything, and I'm terrible at symbolism, and—"

Maya stared at him. Was he actually nervous? Jake, who'd nonchalantly presented a PowerPoint about memes while wearing a cowboy hat?

"Yeah," she found herself saying. "I'd like that."

The bell rang. Jake flashed that grin. "Cool. Meet at the library after school?"

"Okay."

Maya walked into chemistry feeling like something had shifted. Maybe being a running-on-empty zombie wasn't so bad if it led to moments like this. Sometimes the universe's clumsiest moments delivered exactly what you needed.

She pulled her hat back on. Problem child, maybe. But solving problems? She could work on that.