The Riddle of Junior Year

Maya stood outside the gym, her heart hammering like a trapped bird. Inside, tryouts for the school musical—The Enigma—would decide her social fate for the rest of junior year. She'd moved to Crestwood High three months ago, and somehow she'd already earned the nickname "the sphinx" from the theater kids because she never spoke unless absolutely necessary.

"You coming in or what?"

Leo. The guy with dark hair that fell across his forehead like he didn't care, which made everyone care more. He'd been giving her these looks all week—not mean, just... curious.

"Yeah," she managed. "Just psyching myself up."

"You're overthinking it," Leo said, leaning against the brick wall. "Everyone's either gonna impress you or disappoint you. Same bull as always."

Maya snorted. "You sound like my therapist."

"I'm just saying." Leo checked his phone. "Anyway, you ready to bear your soul to the drama teacher?"

"That sounded painfully poetic."

"I'm in the creative writing club, sue me." He grinned, and Maya felt something in her chest loosen. "Hey, you know what would be hilarious? If the social pyramid collapsed today and all the popular kids suddenly forgot how to breathe."

Maya laughed despite herself. "You're terrible."

"I'm observant." Leo looked at her, really looked at her, and for once she didn't want to look away. "You know, sphinxes had riddles. Maybe that's your thing—mystery. Let them wonder."

"Or maybe I'm just awkward," she said.

"Same thing, really."

The gym doors burst open. "Maya Rivera? You're up!"

Her stomach dropped. This was it—singing in front of people who'd already formed their opinions about her before she'd even said hello.

Leo bumped her shoulder with his. "Go show 'em what you've got."

She walked in, and somehow, impossibly, the riddle of junior year felt a little less impossible to solve.