The Riddle at the Deep End

The pool party at the Whitmores' was the kind of event that showed up on your Instagram feed for weeks after — glowing skin, underwater candids, fake laughter frozen in perfect loops. June stood by the snack table, nursing a warm soda, feeling every bit the fraud she was sure she'd be exposed as.

Her bikini was from last season's Target clearance. Everyone else looked like they'd stepped out of a TikTok tutorial.

Then she saw him perched on the diving board like some dark **sphinx**, legs dangling, eyes scanning the pool with an expression that said he'd solved every riddle at this party and found them wanting.

Leo. The new kid from Seattle who sat alone at lunch and read actual books during free period.

June's heart did that traitorous little skip-thump it always did when he was near.

A betting **pool** circulated among the juniors about what his deal was — former child actor, witness protection, recovering addict — but nobody actually talked to him. Except now June was moving toward the diving board before she could talk herself out of it.

"Crowd's exhausting?" she heard herself say.

Leo's eyes flicked to her, startled. Then something like relief. "You have no idea."

They ended up behind the pool house, where the thick black **cable** from the outdoor speakers hummed against the stucco. Leo pulled a pack of cards from his pocket.

"My grandpa taught me riddles," he said. "Want to play?"

"What do I get if I win?"

He smiled — actual, genuine smile, crinkling at the corners. "Friendship. Tragically undervalued currency."

June laughed. It felt real.

The first riddle took her three tries. The second, two. By the time the pool party filtered out, June had solved four riddles and learned that Leo hated Seattle rain, loved obscure indie bands, and moved because his dad got transferred.

"You're good at this," he said, tucking the cards away. "The thinking thing. Most people don't bother."

June felt something unlock in her chest. "I never feel smart enough around these people."

"Then these are the wrong people." Leo paused. "I could teach you more riddles. If you want."

The pool was empty now, water still and reflecting the first stars. June thought about her Target bikini, her warm soda, the way she'd spent the whole afternoon feeling like she didn't belong.

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

Walking home, June's phone buzzed. A new contact: Leo Sphinx Riddle King. She smiled at the screen, at the party still glowing in the distance, at the certainty that she'd found something better than fitting in.

She'd found someone who got the joke.