The Sphinx at Padel Court

My phone buzzed during third period. *Want to play padel after school?* — Chloe

I stared at the text like it was written in hieroglyphs. Me? The girl who spent every weekend swimming laps at the Y because the water drowned out everyone's expectations? Now Chloe, the actual sphinx of our grade—mysterious, untouchable, devastating—wanted to play padel with me?

"Earth to Riley," Mr. Henderson said, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. Again.

My goldfish, Fin, was probably doing better socially than I was. At least he had five other fish to ignore him.

**

The padel courts near the community center were Chloe's territory. She showed up in her skirt and Adidas slides, looking like she'd stepped out of a TikTok that would get 500K views. I showed up in my swim team warmups because apparently I'm allergic to being cool.

"You've never played," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're holding the racket like a tennis racquet." She demonstrated the proper grip, her hands brushing mine for exactly 1.3 seconds. I counted. "Padel's different. More spin. More finesse."

**

We played. I served balls into the fence. She laughed—not mean, exactly, but the laugh of someone observing a curious species. And somewhere between her third ace and my eighth failed return, I realized something.

I was trying so hard to be good at padel because I thought that's what she wanted. But I wasn't a padel player. I was a swimmer. I was the girl who could hold her breath underwater for two minutes and twenty seconds.

"You know what?" I said, suddenly light. "I suck at this."

Chloe stopped mid-serve. "What?"

"I said I suck at this." I dropped the racket. "But I know this place that has the best milkshakes, and I'm actually good at drinking those."

She stared at me. Then she smiled—really smiled, not her Sphinx half-smile.

"Only if you let me win."

"Deal."

**

Later that night, Fin swam to the front of his bowl. I fed him the extra flakes I usually saved for my sister's fish. Being yourself, I realized, was better than being sphinx-level mysterious. Even if sphinxes did have cooler hair.