The Sphinx at Senior Prom

Maya's ethernet cable frayed again, exactly like her nerves. Three weeks until senior prom, and she still couldn't find a date who didn't make her want to yeet herself into the sun.

"You good?" Keisha asked, barely looking up from her phone as they sat in Maya's bedroom.

"Just this dumb cable keeps cutting out right when I'm trying to stream The Bachelor," Maya lied. Because the real problem—being the only girl in their friend group without a promposal—felt pathetic to say out loud.

The next day at school, THE Sphinx appeared.

Okay, not literally. But someone had taped a laminated sign to the main entrance that read: "I AM THE SPHINX. SOLVE MY RIDDLE, WIN A PROMPOSAL." Underneath, in curly font: "What has hands but cannot clap?"

"This is so cringe," Keisha said, but she was already typing into Notes app. "A clock?"

By lunch, the Sphinx had struck again. This time in the cafeteria: "I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with the wind."

"An echo," some sophomore shouted.

But that wasn't even the weird part. The weird part was that whoever was behind it somehow knew things. Like how Maya loved vintage Aerosmith shirts. How she'd been secretly practicing for the school musical even though she swore she was too nervous to audition.

"Okay, this feels serial killer-ish," Maya whispered to Keisha as another Sphinx note appeared in her locker. "I HAVE A HEAD BUT NO EYES. I HAVE A TAIL BUT NO LEGS."

"A coin," Keisha said immediately. "Maya, someone's watching you. Like, studying you."

That night, Maya couldn't sleep. She felt seen in a way that was both flattering and creepy. Who noticed the little things about her? Who cared enough to make riddles?

Two days before prom, she found the final Sphinx note taped to her bedroom window (which was low-key terrifying but also kind of impressive how they got up there). It read: "I FOLLOW YOU ALL DAY BUT DISAPPEAR AT NIGHT. WHAT AM I?"

Maya stared at it, her heart doing weird fluttery things.

"Your shadow," she whispered.

But when she turned around, there was Tyler—awkward, quiet Tyler from her AP English class—standing behind her, holding a bouquet of sunflowers and looking like he might pass out.

"I, uh, I've been wanting to ask you to prom since September," he stammered. "But you're like, really cool and I'm... me. So I made it weird."

"The Sphinx thing was you spying on me?"

"I wasn't spying! I just... noticed stuff. From the back of the classroom. Your Aerosmith shirts. How you hum showtunes during tests. I thought the riddles would make it less scary than just asking."

Maya looked at him—really looked. The way his hands shook slightly. The genuine terror in his eyes. This wasn't some macho promposal with flash mobs and giant posters. This was someone paying attention.

"Yes," she said, and Tyler's face literally lit up. "But if you ever put another note on my bedroom window at midnight again, I'm calling the cops."

"Deal."

And her cable was still broken, but suddenly Maya didn't care about streaming anything anymore.