Sphinx in the Outfield

Marcus's iPhone buzzed in his pocket like an angry hornet, but he ignored it. Out here on the baseball field, the only thing that mattered was the ball screaming toward him at eighty miles per hour.

"You got this, Marcus!" his dad yelled from the bleachers. Same voice that'd been shouting since T-ball, back when Marcus still loved the game. Now? Now the pressure sat heavy in his chest like a swallowed baseball.

*Strike three.*

The team groaned. Marcus's phone buzzed again – probably another text from Jasmine asking where he was. The party started at eight, and everyone expected the star pitcher to show up, snapchat story ready, living his best life.

But Marcus wasn't living his best life. He was living someone else's.

After practice, he drifted to the old sculpture garden behind the abandoned library – his secret spot. There she was: the rusted iron **sphinx**, her face weathered but her smile knowing. Marcus had been coming here for months, talking to her like she could actually hear him. Funny how a statue made better conversation than real people sometimes.

"Riddle me this," he muttered, dropping his equipment bag. "How do you tell your dad that the thing he loves most about you is the thing you hate?"

The sphinx said nothing, but her stone eyes seemed to understand. Marcus pulled out his **iPhone**, scrolling through notifications without really seeing them. Instagram stories of the party he was supposed to attend. Jasmine's third text: *"everyone's asking where u are"

He stared at the screen, then at the sphinx. Something about her patient expression made his mind click into place. The answer wasn't in the phone or on the field or in anyone else's expectations.

Marcus typed out a text to Jasmine: *"not coming tonight. need to figure some stuff out."* Then another to his dad: *"can we talk after your game tomorrow? need to tell you something."*

His hands trembled as he hit send, but for the first time in forever, his chest felt light.

"Thanks, Sphinx," he whispered, and somehow, the iron smile seemed a little less rusty than before.