The Riddle in Jordan's Hat

The beanie was practically glued to my head at this point. Mom called it my security hat, which was embarrassing and also lowkey accurate. Without it, I felt like a bald cat—exposed and vulnerable. But tonight, at Taylor's birthday party, I was determined to take it off. Fresh start, new me, all that cringe inspirational stuff my guidance counselor was always pushing.

Then I saw Jordan across the room, and my brain turned to static.

Jordan Chen, who'd been my lab partner since September and somehow still didn't know I existed outside of dissecting frogs and titrating acids. Jordan, who had that whole effortlessly gorgeous thing going on while I looked like a potato that had been left out too long. Jordan, who I'd been lowkey spying on through Instagram stories for three months like a total creep.

I'm not proud of this behavior, but I never claimed to be smooth.

The party shifted into the backyard where Taylor's dad had set up this elaborate escape room thing—some Egyptian theme with cardboard sphinxes and plastic scarab beetles. We got divided into teams, and of course I ended up on Jordan's team, because the universe wanted me to suffer.

"Okay," Jordan said, crouching beside a papier-mâché sphinx with a decoder lock on its base. "This thing speaks in riddles. We have to solve them to get the combination."

"Cool," I said, trying to sound normal and not like someone who had memorized Jordan's Starbucks order from accidental observation. "I'm, uh, decent at riddles."

Jordan looked at me. Actually looked at me. "Yeah? You're smarter than you look."

I think that was a compliment?

Outside, lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the backyard in this weird strobe effect. Everyone screamed, but Jordan just laughed—this real, genuine sound that made something in my chest do flips. Storms were supposedly their favorite thing. I knew this because I was a dedicated and thorough spy.

The sphinx riddle was something about what has roots as nobody sees and is taller than trees. Jordan was stumped, pacing back and forth, hands shoved in pockets, brows knit together. And suddenly I wasn't thinking about the hat or how exposed my forehead felt or how I was definitely going to say something stupid.

"A mountain," I said. The answer just came out. "The answer's a mountain."

Jordan stopped. Turned. Looked at me like really looked at me this time, like I was a puzzle they'd been trying to solve for months.

"How did you—"

"I pay attention," I said, and then wanted to die immediately.

But Jordan's face softened into something else. Something warmer. "Yeah. You really do."

Another lightning flash, closer this time. Rain started coming down, and everyone ran inside screaming, but Jordan and I stayed there a second longer, standing beside that stupid cardboard sphinx in the pouring rain, and for the first time all night, I didn't even think about my hat.