The Orange Riddle

Maya's Converse were violently orange—like, traffic-cone orange—and she loved them even if they made her feel like a walking highlighter in the school hallway. They were her thing. Her armor. Her way of saying, "Yeah, I see you staring, and I'm cool with it."

Which was exactly why she was currently crouched behind a row of lockers, trying to spy on Jason—six-foot-two, starting quarterback, owner of a smile that could derail her entire train of thought—without being seen.

"You're being creepy," Emma whispered from beside her. "This is weird behavior for a Wednesday."

"I'm not being creepy," Maya shot back, adjusting the strap of her backpack. "I'm conducting research. There's a difference."

"Research?" Emma raised an eyebrow. "Into what? His emotional availability?"

"Into whether he actually exists or if he's just a collective hallucination," Maya said. "Sometimes I feel like he's this sphinx guarding the popular kid pyramid. All mysterious and unapproachable."

"Did you just compare Jason to a sphinx?"

"I did. And yes, I'm aware how absolutely unhinged that sounds."

They were in the auditorium—tech week for the school play, which meant chaos, abandoned prop pieces, and the perfect place to hide while waiting for Maya's phone to finish charging so she could finally DM him.

Then she saw it: a prop sphinx mask someone had left on a table near the stage. One of those papier-mâché things from drama class. It had this ridiculous smile painted on it.

"I dare you," Emma said, reading her mind.

"No."

"Maya, if you don't put on that sphinx mask and walk up to Jason like it's completely normal, I will never respect you again."

So Maya did it. Because that's what happens when you're fifteen and your best friend dares you and your orange sneakers are already screaming for attention.

She marched up to Jason, who was sitting on the edge of the stage, phone in hand. She stood there. Silent. Sphinx-masked. Orange-shoed.

He looked up. Slowly.

"Maya?"

She nodded.

"Is that... is that the sphinx mask?"

Another nod.

Jason's shoulders started shaking. Then he was laughing—not mean laughter, but like, actually laughing. "Okay, I needed this. I was about to have a panic attack about calculus."

The sphinx riddle had been solved: the popular guy was just a guy who got stressed about math and appreciated a weirdly confident girl in orange shoes who wasn't afraid to look ridiculous.

"So," Jason said, still grinning. "You doing anything Friday?"

Maya's heart did this little flip. "Maybe. If you're cool with hanging out with someone who wears orange Converse and puts papier-mâché masks on her head."

"Honestly," Jason said, "that's kind of the coolest thing that's happened to me all week."