Sphinx of the Hallways

Maya's Nikes squeaked against the gym floor as she pretended to stretch, actually **running** through the five-point plan she'd rehearsed in the mirror that morning. Be confident. Be mysterious. Do NOT mention that time you projectile-vomited after lunch last semester.

"You're **running** for Freshman Rep?" Chloe appeared beside her, popping a piece of bright pink gum. "That's... brave."

Maya's stomach did that thing where it felt like a **goldfish** was flopping around inside her ribcage. "Yeah. Why not?" She adjusted her glasses, then remembered she was supposed to wear contacts today. Too late now. The glasses stayed.

"Just saying, the whole student council thing is kinda..." Chloe made a face. "Anyway, good luck with the speech tomorrow."

Maya watched her walk away, already pulling out her phone to text someone. Probably Tyler. Definitely Tyler.

That's when she saw it: the **sphinx**. Not a literal one—obviously—but Mr. Henderson's ancient papier-mâché mascot statue from the '98 championship season, now collecting dust behind the bleachers. Its painted-on smile was cracked, one eye half-closed like it knew something it wasn't telling.

"You judging me too?" Maya whispered.

The sphinx said nothing. Classic.

Her phone buzzed. MOM: Don't forget your **vitamin** D!! And EAT LUNCH TODAY.

Maya rolled her eyes but grabbed the bottle from her locker anyway. The gummy kind, at least. Not totally tragic.

But then—movement. Behind the trophy case. Someone ducking.

**Spy** mode activated.

Maya crept forward, footsteps silent on the carpet. Whoever it was, they were definitely not supposed to be there. Maybe a senior skipping class? Maybe someone plotting something actually interesting for once?

She peeked around the corner.

Tyler. On the ground. Sort of... crying? Or at least definitely not not crying.

Maya froze. This was NOT part of the plan. The plan was: become Freshman Rep, make friends, maybe get Tyler to finally learn her name without her having to introduce herself for the fourth time. The plan was NOT: catch the guy she'd been low-key **spy**ing on via Instagram for three months having an emotional breakdown beside a dusty mascot statue.

He looked up. Their eyes met.

The goldfish in her stomach died.

"I..." Tyler wiped his face. "My hamster died."

"Oh."

"His name was Nacho."

"I'm sorry." And she actually was. "I had a **goldfish** once. He lasted two weeks before my brother accidentally fed him pizza."

Tyler cracked something like a smile. "That's... messed up."

"Yeah."

They sat there for a minute. The **sphinx** watched. The **vitamin** gummy in Maya's pocket suddenly felt extremely pressing.

"You're **running** for Rep, right?" Tyler said finally.

"Yeah. It's probably a terrible idea."

"Nah." He stood up, dusting off his jeans. "You got my vote."

Maya blinked. "Really?"

"Really." He held out a fist. "Also, you should definitely do something about that mascot situation. It's weird as hell."

Maya bumped his fist. "Deal."

The goldfish in her stomach was back. But this time, it wasn't flopping. It was swimming. Like it knew something she was just starting to figure out.

Maybe high school wouldn't be so terrible after all.