Sphinx Summer

Maya's bedroom felt like a tomb sometimes, which was fitting given the giant papier-mâché sphinx head glowering from her desk. Mr. Harrison's World History final project loomed over her like, well, like a literal sphinx—and she still had no idea what her riddle would be.

"You're overthinking again," said Leo, perched on her windowsill with the casual confidence of someone who'd never had a panic attack in the cereal aisle. "The sphinx asked riddles because she was bored. Maybe your sphinx just wants to vibe."

Maya rolled her eyes. Leo Fox—nickname earned in seventh grade when he'd somehow talked his way out of detention five times in a row—had been her neighbor since forever. He was charming, effortlessly cool, and absolutely the worst influence.

"Easy for you to say. You probably finished yours in an hour."

"Two hours," Leo corrected, all mock offense. "I put CARE into my mediocrity, thank you."

Maya's phone buzzed. Group chat blowing up about Jake's party on Friday—the one she'd been staring at for three days, thumb hovering over "maybe" like a goldfish swimming the same endless loop in its bowl. Going meant exposure. Not going meant FOMO and proving what everyone already whispered about her: that Maya Chen, nice enough girl, didn't actually have a personality.

"You're doing that thing," Leo said quietly. "Where you forget you're a whole person outside other people's opinions."

Maya's goldfish, Pancake, swam to the surface of her bowl, mouth opening and closing in tiny bubbles. She'd won him at a carnival last summer—won him, which felt like the first lucky thing that had ever happened to her, even if he was just a fish.

"What if I go," she said, "and I just stand there? What if nobody talks to me and I'm—that girl who showed up alone and looked at her phone all night?"

Leo slid off the windowsill. "Then you come back here, we eat whatever snacks your mom hid in the back of the pantry, and we make your sphinx head absolutely unhinged. Give it glitter. Give it three eyes. Make it ask riddles about that time you tried to dye your hair purple and it turned gray."

Maya laughed despite herself. "We said we'd never talk about that again."

"The sphinx never forgets, Maya."

She looked at her phone. At the group chat. At Pancake doing another lap. At Leo, who'd somehow known exactly when to show up with his stupid fox grin and refusal to let her disappear.

"Fine," she said, thumb finally pressing "count me in." "But if I'm weird at the party, you're doing the sphinx's voice for the presentation."

"Deal," Leo said, already turning to leave. "Also, Pancake looks depressed. Get him a friend. I hear goldfish get lonely."

"He's not lonely! He's contemplative."

"Whatever you say, Sphinx Girl."

The door clicked shut behind him, and Maya's room felt different—lighter somehow. The sphinx wasn't glaring anymore. Just waiting.

Maybe riddles were only impossible when you tried to solve them alone.