The Riddle at 7-Eleven

Maya's sneakers slapped against the pavement as she rounded the corner, her breath hitching in that way it does when you've been running longer than your lungs agreed to. Cross country practice had ended twenty minutes ago, but she kept going because going home meant facing The Question from her mom: "How was school?" as if anything interesting ever happened.

"Hey."

Maya almost tripped over her own feet. Standing by the 7-Eleven entrance was Sasha—actual Sasha, who sat at the cool lunch table and somehow made oversized hoodies look like high fashion. Sasha was stroking a golden retriever that was definitely not supposed to be tied to a bike rack.

"This is Buster," Sasha said, like that explained everything. "He's my neighbor's dog. I'm watching him for... reasons."

"Cool," Maya said, because her brain had suddenly forgotten every other word in the English language. "Cool dog."

"You're on the team, right? Running?" Sasha asked. "I see you sometimes, after school."

Maya felt something weird happen in her chest. "Yeah. Cross country. It's... fine."

"My mom's all obsessed with that wellness stuff now," Sasha continued, scratching behind Buster's ears. "She's got me taking these vitamin gummies that supposedly help with 'teen stress.'" She made air quotes. "Honestly? I think the placebo effect is doing most of the work."

Maya laughed before she could stop herself. Sasha grinned back, and something about her expression softened—all those carefully constructed cool-girl layers seemed to drop for a second.

"You know what I think?" Sasha said. "High school's like being stuck in front of a sphinx. Everyone's asking you these riddles, like 'What's your brand?' and 'Who are your friends?' and you have to answer right or you get eaten alive."

"That's... weirdly specific," Maya said.

"I'm in a mythology phase," Sasha admitted with a shrug. "But seriously, you know what's messed up? I've been in classes with you since September, but I never actually talked to you until just now. That's the real sphinx riddle—why do we do this? Why do we act like we're all in separate kingdoms or something?"

Buster chose that moment to sneeze dramatically.

Both of them laughed, and for the first time all week, Maya felt something settle in her chest—something lighter than all the anxiety she'd been carrying about belonging and being enough and whatever else her therapist wanted to call it.

"Hey," Sasha said, "me and some people are getting bubble tea Saturday. You should come. Unless you have, like, a very important cross country thing?"

Maya smiled, really smiled, as she adjusted her backpack. "I think I can squeeze it in."