Sphinx of the 7-Eleven Parking Lot

Maya's mom kept pushing the vitamin D supplements on her, claiming they'd help with "seasonal affective disorder," but Maya knew the truth: nothing could fix the particular crushing awkwardness of being fifteen and barely speaking to anyone except your cat. So when Jordan—the Jordan who'd transferred in October and somehow already had friend groups overlapping like a Venn diagram of cool—asked if she wanted to hang after school, Maya nearly dropped her tray in the cafeteria.

"Sure," she'd said, trying to sound casual instead of like someone who'd been mentally choreographing this conversation for three months.

Now she stood outside the 7-Eleven, wearing her favorite orange beanie because it gave her confidence, or at least made her feel like a quirky character in a coming-of-age movie instead of just herself. Jordan texted: *running 5 mins late*—and Maya stared at her iphone like it contained sacred texts, overanalyzing the emoji choice (the waving hand, friendly but not flirtatious, what did it mean?).

When Jordan finally pulled up in that beat-up Toyota everyone knew, Maya's stomach did something genuinely unhinged. Jordan hopped out wearing a trucker hat that said FREE MOM Hugs in sharpie, and Maya thought, okay, this is actually happening, I'm hanging out with Jordan Huang voluntarily.

"Hey," Jordan said, cracking open an orange soda. "So I have this whole plan. We're going to the old museum downtown because they have this sphinx statue that's supposedly cursed, and I kind of want to see if it's actually legit or if everyone's just being dramatic."

Maya blinked. "Wait, for real?"

"Unless you think that's lame." Jordan looked suddenly vulnerable. "We could literally just walk around or get food or whatever—"

"No," Maya said, surprised by her own voice sounding steady. "No, I love that. The sphinx thing. Let's definitely do that."

And maybe it was the vitamin supplements finally kicking in, or maybe it was just the way Jordan's face lit up, but Maya felt something shift—like she wasn't just watching her life from behind glass anymore. She was in it. She was HERE, orange beanie and all, about to go investigate a supposedly cursed sphinx statue with the person she'd been lowkey obsessed with for months.

"Your phone's blowing up," Jordan noted as they walked toward Jordan's car.

Maya glanced at her iphone: three texts from her mom asking if she remembered her vitamins. She pocketed it without responding.

"Not important," she said, and for the first time, she meant it.