Sphinx on the Screen

The cable dangled from the ceiling like a dead snake, and I stood on my tiptoes trying to fix it before Maya arrived. My palms were sweating so much I nearly dropped the router—again.

"You need help with that?" My little brother Zara appeared in the doorway, eating cereal and looking way too amused for a 12-year-old.

"No. Get out of my room."

"Whatever. Maya's gonna be here in like ten minutes and you're still in your pajamas."

I shoved past him and checked my phone. Three texts from Maya, two from Jordan (my ex-best friend who'd decided to become popular this year and drop everyone who wasn't), and one from my mom asking if I'd folded the laundry.

Jordan's messages still stung. "sorry about lunch" and "maybe next week" and finally nothing at all for three months. High school was brutal like that—friendships could dissolve faster than sugar in hot water.

The doorbell rang.

I opened it and there was Maya, wearing this vintage denim jacket I'd been coveting since September, holding two bubble teas like she knew exactly what kind of day I'd had. "You look like you just fought a sphinx and lost."

"Thanks. You look like you just fought a sphinx and won."

"That's because I didn't try to fix the cable myself like an idiot." She pushed past me, dropping onto my bed and handing me a taro milk tea with extra boba. "So, Jordan posted about Malia's party Friday. You going?"

I squeezed the cold cup, condensation dripping onto my hand. "Doubt it. Probably studying."

Maya raised an eyebrow. "Studying what, exactly? The various ways to avoid social situations?"

"Shut up."

"You know Malia's been asking about you, right?"

"Bull."

"I'm serious. Jordan told me—"

"Jordan who hasn't spoken to me in three months? That Jordan?"

Maya sighed, flipping onto her stomach. "You're both being stubborn. It's exhausting just watching it from the sidelines."

"Yeah, well, watching is easy. Being the one they left behind isn't."

My phone buzzed. Jordan: "party's at 8. if you want."

Maya peeked over my shoulder. "Well?"

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Maybe it was time to stop being the tragic friend left behind. Maybe it was time to show up and make them see what they'd missed.

"I'll go," I said finally. "But I'm wearing that vintage jacket."

Maya grinned. "Deal. Now help me figure out why Netflix keeps buffering—this cable situation is tragic."