The courtyard oracle

Maya stared at the crumbling sphinx statue in the school courtyard, her iPhone clenched tight in her hand. Another group chat notification. Another invitation she'd missed because she hadn't checked her phone in forty-five minutes.

"Maya! Your vitamin!" her mom's voice echoed through her mind. The gummy vitamin regime was new, part of her mom's wellness kick after watching too many TikTok doctors. Maya still felt like a child taking them, but her mom insisted they'd help with her "stress and anxiety."

"Whatever that means," she muttered, scrolling through photos of the party she'd skipped last Friday. Everyone looked so perfect. So happy. So not-awkward.

Tyler approached the sphinx with his skateboard tucked under one arm. Maya's stomach did that weird flippy thing it always did when he was near. His faded black hoodie, the way his hair fell across his eyes—everything about him seemed effortless.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, dropping beside her before she could answer.

Her brain short-circuited. This was Tyler. The Tyler who'd barely acknowledged her existence since sixth grade. Who now sat close enough that she could smell his cedar-shampoo scent.

"You come here a lot," he said, gesturing at the sphinx. "I've noticed."

Maya felt her face heat up. "Yeah. It's quiet. Nobody really bothers me here."

"Cool." He picked at a loose thread on his jeans. "My mom's making me take these vitamins now. Like, actual horse pills. Says I'm 'growing too fast.'"

She laughed before she could stop herself. "My mom's obsessed with wellness stuff. Makes me take gummy ones like I'm five."

Tyler's laugh was low and surprised, and suddenly they were both laughing at nothing and everything, and the sphinx seemed almost approving above them.

"You know what sphinxes are famous for?" he asked suddenly. "Riddles."

"Yeah?"

"But I feel like our whole generation is constantly solving riddles," he said, his voice dropping. "Decoding texts, figuring out who's being real, what's authentic versus what's just... performative."

Maya's heart raced. This. This was exactly what she'd been thinking alone in her room at night, scrolling through perfectly curated posts that made her feel like she was the only one who wasn't getting it right.

"Maybe that's why I like this old statue," she said quietly. "It doesn't need a filter. It just... is."

Tyler looked at her then, really looked at her, and something shifted. The air felt different, charged.

"Hey," he said, pulling out his phone. "Can I get your number? Not for the group chat drama stuff. Just... to talk."

As she typed her number into his iPhone, Maya caught sight of the sphinx's stone face and could've sworn it was smiling. Maybe some riddles didn't need answers—just the right person to help you ask them.