The Sphinx at Tyler's Party

Maya's mom pressed a vitamin C supplement into her palm before she left, like it was some kind of protection charm against the hazards of a sophomore house party. "You need immunity," she'd said. Maya didn't have the heart to tell her the thing she needed immunity from was social embarrassment.

The party was already lit when she arrived—Tyler's basement thumping with bass, smelling like cheap cologne and something sweet. Maya spotted Jenna by the cooler, wearing that orange crop top she'd spent forty-five minutes deciding on yesterday. Jenna caught Maya's eye and gave her that look, the one that said "we're both awkward but we're in this together."

They ended up on the back patio, away from the crowd, sharing a bench like two exiled royalty. Jenna's family dog, a golden retriever named Barnaby, had escaped the house and was currently investigating Maya's shoes with enthusiastic interest.

"You know," Jenna said, watching the dog work, "my therapist says humans have the social complexity of ancient civilizations. We're like always solving riddles just to exist."

"Like the sphinx," Maya said, then immediately cringed. Wow. Nerd alert.

But Jenna didn't laugh. She actually looked thoughtful. "No, for real though. What's the riddle? 'What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?' Answer: a human. But what's the riddle for being fifteen? 'What wants to be invisible but also wants to be seen? What's terrified of missing out but also wants to stay home?'"

Maya blinked. Jenna had just voiced something she'd been carrying around like a goldfish in a plastic bag—fragile, swirling, impossible to hold.

"I feel like that all the time," Maya admitted quietly.

Jenna nodded, tossing a piece of ice to Barnaby. "Me too. But tonight? Tonight we're both here. That's something."

The back door opened and someone called them in for pizza. Jenna stood up and offered Maya her hand. "Come on. We can be sphinxes together. Solve the riddle of 'how to eat pizza without spilling on ourselves.'"

Maya took her hand, the vitamin C pill still tucked in her pocket like a secret. She didn't need immunity anymore. She had something better: someone who got it. Someone who knew that the real riddle wasn't about legs or time of day—it was about how to be fifteen and scared and brave all at once.

They walked inside, orange light from the basement spilling out onto the patio, and for the first time all night, Maya didn't feel like solving anything. She just felt ready to be there.