Sphinx and the Social Suicide

The party at Tyler's house was already legendary before I even got there.

I didn't realize until I caught my reflection in the backyard sliding glass door that I still had spinach stuck in my braces from dinner. My heart sank. This was my chance to finally talk to Maya — the girl who'd been giving me those looks in chemistry that made my stomach do actual gymnastics — and I was walking around with green shrapnel in my teeth.

I scrubbed it out in the bathroom, practicing my "cool and casual" face.

The pool area was packed, Tyler's backyard transformed into some kind of Egyptian-themed nightmare because apparently his parents were extra like that. And there it was: a massive stone sphinx positioned right by the diving board, staring at everyone like it was judging our life choices.

I grabbed a red cup and tried to blend in, gravitating toward the pool where Maya stood with her friends. Her hair was wet, slicked back, and she was laughing at something Tyler said.

Tyler. Naturally. The guy whose parents owned this house and who probably had never experienced social anxiety in his entire charmed existence.

"Hey, I like your sphinx," I heard myself say, which was possibly the worst sentence ever spoken by a human being.

Maya turned. Her eyes lit up. "Oh my god, right? It's so extra." She stepped away from Tyler. "I'm Maya."

"I know," I said, then immediately wanted to die. "I mean, we have chem together."

She laughed, and it was genuine. Not the polite laugh she'd given Tyler.

The sphinx watched as Tyler swaggered over, clearly territorial. "You gonna answer the riddle or what, Maya?"

She rolled her eyes. "Your riddle is from literally every movie ever. Come up with something original."

"Fine." Tyler gestured at me. "New guy's turn. What's the one thing everyone wants but nobody talks about wanting?"

I thought about it. The answer came to me instantly. "To actually be seen. Like, for real. Not the fake version you present to everyone."

Maya stopped laughing. She looked at me differently, like I'd just said something that actually mattered.

Later, sitting poolside with our feet in the water while Tyler tried way too hard with someone else, she told me she'd been wanting to talk to me since homecoming but thought I was too cool for her.

"I'm literally not cool at all," I said. "I had spinach in my teeth ten minutes ago."

She laughed again, and it was better this time. Real.

The sphinx didn't seem so judgmental anymore. Some riddles don't have answers — they just have people brave enough to ask them.