The Riddle of Court Seven

Maya's first mistake was letting Liam talk her into padel. Second mistake? Wearing her lucky converse instead of actual court shoes. The ball skittered away—again—as Liam's perfect serve demolished her.

"You're thinking about it too hard," he said, grinning that devastating grin that made everyone at Northwood fall all over themselves. "Just feel it."

Easy for him to say. Liam moved like the sport was invented specifically for his joints, while Maya moved like a newborn giraffe on ice.

The weird part? Maya knew exactly why she'd agreed to this. Sofia—aka The Sphinx of Room 204—sat two courts over, surrounded by her squad of effortlessly cool girls who somehow coordinated their athleisure without communicating. Sofia had barely acknowledged Maya's existence since seventh grade, when she'd randomly asked Maya for a pencil and never said thanks.

Riddle wrapped in an enigma, dipped in vanilla latte.

"Dude, you're staring again," Liam whispered, bouncing the ball. "She's just a person."

"She's a sphinx, Liam. A sphinx who accidentally made honor roll while seemingly never opening a book."

"Wanna take five?" He tossed her his water bottle. "You look like you're about to pass out."

They sat at the edge of the court, watching Sofia's group laugh at something someone said.

"You know what my therapist says," Maya said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "She says my nervous system is like a goldfish bowl. Everything feels huge and contained but also completely exposed. And I'm just—swimming in circles, forgetting what I was doing two seconds ago."

"That's actually kind of profound?" Liam took a sip. "Also, goldfish have way better memories than people think. Myth debunked."

"You're not helping."

Sofia suddenly looked over. Made eye contact. Smiled?

Maya's stomach did something deeply unhelpful.

"She's coming over," Liam hissed. "Act normal. Do people even know what that means?"

"Hey," Sofia said, stopping at their court. "You're Maya, right? From English?"

Maya's brain short-circuited. "Uh. Yeah. Hi. Hello."

"I saw your poem in the literary magazine," Sofia said, tucking hair behind her ear. "The one about goldfish and glass houses? It was—actually really good."

The sphinx had spoken. And somehow, the riddle wasn't as complicated as Maya had made it out to be.

"Thanks," Maya managed, and for the first time all afternoon, her hands didn't shake. "Thanks. That—that means a lot."