The Sphinx at Sarah's Party

My lucky hat sat crooked on my head—well, technically it was stolen from my older brother, but details. I'd spent twenty minutes perfecting the tilt in the bathroom mirror because tonight was IT. Sarah's party. The first real party of freshman year, and apparently everyone who was anyone would be there. No pressure.

Standing on her porch, I could already hear the bass thumping through the door. My palms were sweating. I'd taken like, twelve of those vitamin C gummies my mom keeps pushing on me—she's convinced I'm gonna get scurvy or something—but obviously they don't actually help with anxiety. Thanks, Mom.

Inside, the living room was packed. People were spilling into the kitchen, holding red cups, laughing at stuff that definitely wasn't that funny. I spotted Sarah's older brother Leo—the guy who gave the TEDx Talk about ancient Egyptian architecture last year—leaning against the wall looking mysterious.

"Yo, new kid!" Leo waved me over. "Wanna see something sick?"

He led me to the dining room where, sitting in the middle of the table, was this massive stone statue of a sphinx. Like, fully detailed, hieroglyphics and everything.

"My dad's an Egyptologist," Leo said proudly. "This is a replica, obviously, but still pretty dope, right?"

"Yeah," I lied, adjusting my hat. "Very... educational."

"There's goldfish crackers in the bowl," some random sophomore girl appeared beside us, eyeing the sphinx like it had personally offended her. "But they're stale. Sarah's parents are, like, obsessed with organic stuff now."

"Goldfish," I repeated, because my brain had stopped functioning. Why was there a sphinx at a high school party? Why was I still wearing this ridiculous hat? And why did I suddenly feel like I was the one being asked a riddle I couldn't solve?

"You good?" Leo asked. "You look like you're gonna pass out."

"I'm good," I said, pulling off the hat. "Actually, you know what? This hat is stupid."

"For real," the sophomore girl nodded. "Your brother has terrible taste."

I laughed. A real one. And somewhere in that moment—between the sphinx statue, the stale goldfish crackers, and the vitamin C gummies churning in my stomach—I realized that maybe high school wasn't about perfecting the right look or saying the right things. Maybe it was just about showing up, being awkward, and finding people who didn't care if your hat was stolen or tilted wrong.

"Want some actual food?" Leo asked. "We ordered pizza."

"Pizza sounds amazing," I said. And for the first time all night, I actually meant it.