The Riddle of Who We're Becoming

Maya felt like a **zombie** walking through the hallway, phone in hand, scrolling through feeds that demanded her attention but gave nothing back. Three hours of sleep and her brain was fried, but that's what you got when you stayed up until 2 AM doomscrolling.

Her best friend since seventh grade, Chloe, had been acting weird all week. Distant. The kind of distant that made Maya's stomach hurt.

"Hey," Maya said, sliding into the seat next to her at lunch. Chloe glanced up from her **iPhone**, then quickly back at the screen.

"Hey."

That was it. That was the whole conversation.

At home, Maya's **goldfish**, Bubbles, was doing that thing where he hung out near the bottom of the bowl, not moving much. She'd won him at a carnival last summer, and somehow he was still alive despite her having zero idea what she was doing. But lately, even Bubbles seemed done with everything.

Her phone buzzed. A notification from Chloe: *can u come over?*

Maya grabbed her backpack and biked over, heart pounding.

Chloe's room was different. Posters pulled down from walls. Boxes stacked in the corner. She sat on her bed, looking like she'd been crying.

"What's going on?" Maya asked, sitting beside her.

"I'm switching schools," Chloe said quietly. "My dad got transferred. We're moving next weekend."

Maya couldn't breathe. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought if I didn't say it, it wouldn't be real. Like if I ignored it enough, it would just... not happen."

They sat there as the afternoon light faded into purple and gold. Maya thought about the **sphinx** from mythology class—that creature with the riddle no one could solve. Growing up felt like that sometimes. Like some ancient monster blocking your path, asking questions you didn't have answers for.

*What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening?*

*A human.*

But the real riddle was harder: How do you hold onto people when everything changes? How do you become who you're supposed to be when who you are keeps breaking apart and rearranging?

"You're still my **friend**," Maya said finally. "Like, for real. Not just when it's easy."

Chloe wiped her eyes and nodded. They took a selfie together—both making ugly faces, because that felt more honest than smiling.

Later that night, Maya fed Bubbles. He swam up to the surface, suddenly alive again, doing little flips.

Some things lasted. Some things changed. Maybe the trick wasn't solving the riddle, but learning to live with the questions.