Sphinx Water Hazard

Maya was basically a zombie by the time her shift started at 7 AM. Three days of finals plus this summer job at King Tut's Putt-Putt Palace was a combo that should be illegal. The animatronic sphinx on hole 3 kept glitching—its mouth opening and closing like it was trying to say something profound but just choking on ancient dust instead.

"You good, M?" Marcus asked, leaning on his broom like he didn't have actual work to do.

"Never been more alive," she deadpanned, which was exactly what a zombie would say.

Her parents had been fighting all week about money, so Maya did what any rational sixteen-year-old would do: she snuck Buster, their elderly golden retriever, into work. He was currently passed out behind the counter, living his best life.

Then HE walked in. Caleb from AP English, who she'd been lowkey obsessed with since September. He was with his friends and they were being loud at the water hazard on hole 7, daring each other to hit across it.

"Yo, whose dog is that?" Caleb asked, spotting Buster's tail sticking out.

Maya's brain short-circuited. "Uh, mine. He's emotional support. For the customers."

"That's honestly genius," Caleb said, grinning. "Can I pet him?"

As Buster soaked up the attention like a therapy professional, Maya felt something shift. The sphinx on hole 3 let out one of its weird mechanical groans, and everyone laughed. Caleb made a joke about how the sphinx was probably tired of watching teenagers fail at mini golf.

For the first time all week, Maya didn't feel like she was drowning. The metaphorical water in her life had receded enough to breathe.

"Hey," Caleb said before they left. "You wanna come with us to the lake tomorrow? Since you're clearly a dog whisperer and all."

Maya looked at her zombie reflection in the sphinx's glass eye. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I do."