The Riddle of Seventh Period

I hide in the bathroom stall, watching my iPhone screen flicker with unseen group chat drama. The sphinx of sophomore year—Elena—has mastered the art of leaving everyone on read, including me. She's the kind of girl who sits at the center table during lunch, surrounded by a circle of friends, yet says almost nothing. Just watches. Like she knows something we don't.

My cat Luna waits at home, the only creature who doesn't care that I'm socially doomed. Meanwhile, Mom's making me take these gross vitamin C gummies she swears will fix my anxiety. "Just trust me, Maya," she says every morning, pressing the bottle into my hand like it's some kind of magic elixir.

"Maya!" Jordan's voice cuts through my spiral. "You coming to padel or what?"

Padel. Because apparently that's what cool people do now instead of hanging out at the mall or, I don't know, having normal conversations. I'd been trying to avoid it—sports aren't exactly my strong suit, and the last time I attempted anything athletic, I'd faceplanted during dodgeball and earned the nickname "Grace" for three weeks.

But Jordan's already waiting at the courts, and if I bail, I'll look even lamer than I already feel. So I grab my racket and head out, my stomach doing that nervous flutter thing that's become basically permanent since freshman year started.

Elena's there, of course. Playing opposite Jordan, moving like she's been doing this her whole life while I trip over my own feet. Every shot I miss, I can feel her watching—those inscrutable sphinx eyes following my every failure.

After the game, I'm sitting on the bench, resigned to my status as eternally awkward, when Elena slides onto the court beside me.

"You're not terrible," she says, spinning a padel ball between her fingers. "You just think too much."

She demonstrates a serve, explaining the wrist motion like it's the most natural thing in the world. I try to copy her and actually hit the ball over the net.

"See?" She smiles, and it's the first time I've seen her actually smile, not just that mysterious half-smile she gives everyone. "You know those vitamin gummies your mom makes you take?" She points to my backpack pocket where the bottle sticks out. "My mom makes me take them too. Says anxiety's basically just low vitamin C."

I blink. "You have anxiety?"

"Everyone has anxiety, Maya. Some people are just better at hiding it."

We both laugh, and suddenly the school's sphinx seems a lot more like a regular person. My phone buzzes in my pocket—a notification from Elena: *You should come to game night. My sister's bringing this absolutely deranged cat she rescued. You'll like him.*

I type back *What's his name?* already feeling lighter than I have all semester.

"Riddles solved," she says, standing up and heading toward the school building. "See you at lunch?"

"Yeah," I call after her. "See you at lunch."

And for the first time, I actually believe it.