The Riddle at Home Plate

Leo's palms were sweating through his baseball grip, which was honestly embarrassing considering he was just holding a bat, not even facing a pitch yet. Coach Miller was droning on about "finding your stance" but Leo's mind was three miles away at the County Fair, where he'd somehow managed to win a goldfish for Maya-the-girl-from-English-class after she'd drunkenly (on root beer, obviously) confessed she'd never had a pet.

"You good, Hernandez?" asked Marcus, sliding onto the bench beside him and knocking Leo's cap sideways.

"Yeah. Just thinking about the sphinx," Leo said, then immediately regretted it. Marcus raised an eyebrow like Leo had just announced he was moving to Mars.

"The sphinx. Like, the Egyptian thing with the riddles."

"We're reading Oedipus in English, genius," Leo muttered, adjusting his hat. "Maya thinks it's deep that the sphinx asks impossible questions and people die if they get them wrong."

"Maya, huh?" Marcus grinned. "The Maya?"

Leo's face burned. He'd lowkey had a crush on her since September, when she'd worn that oversized hoodie to school every day and drew sphinxes in the margins of her notebook. Now it was May, he was carrying a plastic bag with a fish that probably had three days to live, and he was absolutely spiraling about how to give it to her without being weird about it.

"Just give her the fish, bro," Marcus said, like he could read Leo's mind. "Worst case, she thinks it's weird. Best case, she thinks you're thoughtful. Middle case, she names it after you and it dies in a week."

Leo stared at him. "When did you get so wise?"

"I've been watching too many TikTok relationship coaches," Marcus admitted. "But seriously. The sphinx had a point. Sometimes you just gotta answer the riddle even if you're scared of getting eaten."

Leo thought about that. About the goldfish swimming in tiny circles in his bag, about Maya's smile when she'd mentioned wanting something to take care of, about how he'd been overthinking everything for eight months while she probably just thought he was quiet.

"Yo," Coach Miller yelled. "Hernandez! You're up!"

Leo stood up, palms still sweaty but steady now. He adjusted his cap and stepped toward home plate. Whatever happened with Maya—whether she thought the goldfish was cute or weird or whether she friendzoned him or whatever—at least he wouldn't be standing still anymore. Sometimes the scariest part wasn't the monster asking the riddle. It was finally deciding to speak.