The Riddle in the hallway

Maya's iphone buzzed against her thigh, but she ignored it. Again. The group chat had been blowing up since lunch, and she already knew what they were saying—without even looking. Some joke at her expense, probably. The screenshot someone took of her awkward moment in third period. The way Ryan had laughed when she'd knocked over her tray in the cafeteria, face burning like someone had set it on fire.

She ducked into the old library wing, the part everyone avoided because it smelled like dust and regrets. That's when she saw the new girl—Zara—sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by these weird old books she'd clearly pulled from the restricted section.

"You're running," Zara said. It wasn't a question. Her dark eyes were like tunnels going somewhere deep.

"No I'm not." Maya's voice squeaked. Smooth.

Zara smiled slightly. "What's the thing that walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?"

"Seriously? A sphinx riddle?" But Maya found herself sitting down anyway. "It's a person. A baby crawls, adults walk, old people use canes. Everyone knows that one."

"Everyone knows it," Zara agreed. "But not everyone lives it. You're walking on three legs right now, Maya—you're carrying all this weight that isn't even yours."

Maya's iphone lit up with another notification. The betrayal. She'd told Sarah about her crush on Ryan as a friend thing, in confidence, and Sarah had apparently told the whole group. They weren't friends. They were frenemies, something Maya had heard on TikTok but never really understood until right now.

"What do I do?" Maya asked, and Zara's knowing look said everything. This wasn't about riddles anymore. This was about the kind of truth that hits you like a brick—some people are only your friend until it's inconvenient for them.

"You walk on two legs," Zara said simply. "You stand up. You find the people who make you feel like you don't need a third one to hold you up."

Later that night, Maya blocked the group chat. It felt terrifying and exhilarating, like jumping off a high dive into uncertain water. But her phone buzzed—Zara, asking if she wanted to study for history tomorrow. A real friend, maybe. Someone who understood that the hardest riddle wasn't the ones in books.

The ones we live through.