The Riddle of Freshman Year

Maya's dad insisted on giving her a bear hug right in front of the entire freshman orientation, complete with him making actual growling sounds. She wanted the earth to swallow her whole. This was it — her social life, over before it began.

That's when she saw her. The Sphinx. That's what everyone called the senior who sat alone on the bleachers, reading worn paperback books during lunch. She had this mysterious vibe, like she knew something the rest of them didn't. Maya found herself watching her, wondering how someone could be so comfortable being alone when Maya felt awkward even in a crowd.

The first school dance approached, and Maya's crush situationship-of-the-moment asked if she was going. She panicked and blurted out that she had to watch her goldfish, which was obviously a lie because a) she didn't have one, and b) who has an emergency goldfish situation at 7 PM on a Friday?

Her attempt to be chill was, as her younger brother would say, a total fail.

The next Monday, she found herself sitting near The Sphinx during lunch, hiding from her crush. The older girl looked up from her book and said, "You know, goldfish have longer memories than people think."

Maya blinked. "You heard that?"

"Everyone heard. But here's the thing" — The Sphinx closed her book — "none of it matters. In three months, nobody will remember who said what to whom. High school drama has the lifespan of... well, a goldfish in a dirty bowl."

Something clicked. Maya realized she'd been so focused on not embarrassing herself that she wasn't actually living. She texted her crush that night: "Actually, I'm free Friday. My goldfish is cool with it."

The response came back: "lol cool see u there"

And just like that, Maya stopped treating every moment like a riddle she had to solve perfectly. She learned that being yourself — bear hugs and all — was better than being perfect.