Sphinx's Midnight Padel Match

I felt like a zombie walking into school that Monday—four hours of sleep will do that to you. But nobody else looked alive either. Welcome to junior year at Westwood Academy, where the cafeteria served us coffee like it was a survival strategy.

"You coming to padel practice?" Maya asked, sliding into the seat beside me. Her hair still smelled like the coconut shampoo she'd let me borrow during that weekend beach bonfire.

"Maybe?" I shrugged, trying to play it cool even though my stomach did that thing it always did around her. "If I don't fall asleep first."

Padel was the new obsession—an enclosed court version of tennis that everyone pretended they'd been playing forever. The rich kids showed up with custom paddles and talked about "spin technique" like they hadn't picked up a racquet two weeks ago. But Maya was on the team, and suddenly I cared about wall bounces.

That's when I noticed the Sphinx.

Not a literal one, obviously. But someone had taped a neon-orange index card to the trophy case with a riddle: *I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?*

"Weird," I muttered.

"A map," Maya said instantly, then blushed. "What? I like puzzles."

More appeared each day. Under the bleachers. Inside library books. By the zombie apocalypse poster in Mr. Harrison's room. The whole school was obsessed with figuring out who the Sphinx was—some brilliant sophomore, a bored senior, maybe even a teacher.

Thursday at padel practice, I found another one tucked inside my gym bag: *The walls can help you. The walls can betray you. Hit where no one expects.*

Coach blew his whistle. "Alright, match time. Leo, you're up against Jason."

Jason. The guy who'd made fun of my shoes yesterday. The guy with the $500 paddle.

The rally started. I played normally at first—just trying to return everything, staying safe. Jason was winning, smirking every time I fumbled a corner shot. But the Sphinx's words echoed in my head. *The walls can help you.*

Instead of returning directly, I banked the ball off the side wall at a weird angle. It spiraled past Jason's racket. Point.

"Lucky shot," he muttered.

The next one—back wall, spin toward the corner. Another point. I could feel Maya watching from the sidelines, could feel the shift in the air. I wasn't the new kid anymore. I was someone who could use the walls.

"Nice!" Maya called out as Jason slammed his paddle down.

After practice, I found another note in my locker: *You're getting it. Not everything is a straight line. — S*

I started laughing, right there in the hallway. Some people gave me weird looks, but I didn't care. I might still feel like a zombie half the time, and I might still be figuring out who I was supposed to be. But for the first time in months, I was actually awake.