The Friend in the Mirror

I'm literally a zombie right now. Four hours of sleep because Maya wouldn't stop texting about how Tyler ghosted her at Spring Fling. My palm is still sore from face-planting during gym class yesterday—yes, in front of everyone. Yes, it was legendary.

I'm staring at myself in the bathroom mirror like I'm some ancient sphinx guarding secrets, but really I'm just wondering if I can pull off the new haircut I impulsively got at 2 AM. Spoiler: I cannot.

Then Sarah walks in. She's been my friend since kindergarten, back when we shared juice boxes and cooties. Now she's the one who actually gets it when I say I feel like I'm failing at the whole teenager thing.

"You good?" she asks, leaning against the doorframe like she owns the place.

I swipe at my reflection. "Just the usual existential crisis. You know how it is."

She nods, totally serious. "The sphinx routine again? What's the riddle this time?"

"Who am I, and why is everything so awkward?"

Sarah laughs, and it's the best sound I've heard all day. "That's not a riddle. That's just called being sixteen."

She holds out her hand, palm up. "Come on. Let's go get boba and pretend we have our lives together."

I take it. Maybe the riddle isn't supposed to be solved alone. Maybe that's the whole point.