Sphinx's Secret Serve

Riley's first day at Crestwood Academy felt like walking into a movie where everyone else had the script. The **padel** courts stretched out like gleaming green stages, and suddenly her summer of 'learning a cool sport' seemed like a terrible mistake.

"You're holding the racket like it's gonna bite you," said a girl with rainbow streaks in her hair. "I'm Sam. Also, you're standing in the wrong spot."

Riley shifted her weight, trying to look like she belonged. The coach blew his whistle, and somehow she ended up partnered with Sam for drills. They weren't terrible together. They weren't good either, but Sam didn't seem to care.

After practice, Riley's mom picked her up in the family's ancient SUV, its faded **bear** decal peeling on the rear window. "How was it? Did you make friends?"

"Everyone's terrifyingly confident," Riley muttered.

"It takes time, sweetie."

Wednesday brought the legendary smoothie bar. Riley reached for **papaya** mango because it sounded sophisticated, which lasted exactly three seconds before she tripped over someone's bag and splashed bright orange everything across her white uniform.

The entire court went silent.

"Classic move," Sam called out, sliding over with napkins. "First week, I knocked over the trophy case. Everyone still talks about it."

Riley's face burned. "Great. Now I'm the smoothie girl."

"Better than being the trophy girl," Sam grinned. "Wanna come to my place? I have a **cat** who judges everyone equally."

Friday, Riley finally noticed him—the guy who sat alone during lunch, reading near the old stone **sphinx** statue by the art building. Everyone called him Sphinx because nobody knew his real name, and he supposedly never spoke.

"Don't bother," Sam said when Riley mentioned him. "He's in his own world."

But something about Sphinx made her curious. Maybe it was how he seemed completely unbothered by all the social posturing at Crestwood. Like he knew something everyone else didn't.

The following week, Riley found herself sitting near the sphinx statue during free period. Sphinx was there, sketching something.

"You're holding your pencil wrong," she said before she could stop herself.

He looked up, actually looked up, and for the first time, Riley saw something like amusement flicker across his face. "You're one to talk. That was the worst papaya incident I've ever witnessed."

Riley's eyes widened. "You SAW that?"

"Everyone saw that." He closed his sketchbook. "I'm Leo, by the way."

"Wait—you speak?"

"Only to people who humiliate themselves with fruit." A tiny smile. "Wanna show me your padel swing sometime? I guarantee it's worse than my drawing."

Riley laughed, actually laughed, for the first time since she'd walked through Crestwood's gates. Maybe she didn't have everything figured out yet. Maybe she was still the smoothie girl, the beginner with the terrible form, the new kid trying too hard.

But as she headed back to the courts, Riley realized something important: fitting in wasn't the point. The point was finding people who didn't mind if you made a mess sometimes—even if it was all over your shirt.