The Sphinx by the Pool

Maya stood frozen at the edge of the deck, clutching her vitamin D bottle like it was some kind of magical talisman that could make her invisible. The sophomore class pool party raged before her—bodies splashing, music thumping, Tyler Hernandez doing cannonballs off the diving board like he owned the place.

Her mom had pushed the vitamins on her that morning. "You're pale as a ghost, Maya. At least take these so you don't burn." Typical. Now here she was, fully clothed while everyone else lived their best bikini lives.

The Garcías' backyard was ridiculous—a legit oasis with palm trees swaying around an infinity pool that practically glowed purple under the LED lights. And right there by the shallow end: this ancient stone sphinx statue staring at everyone with that inscrutable face, like it knew all their secrets and was judging them for using too much sunscreen.

"Hey, you gonna stand there all night?"

Maya jumped. It was Desi, the junior who always sat alone at lunch but somehow knew everything about everyone. Desi's cat-eye liner was actually cat-eye—sharp, intentional, perfect.

"I'm... working up to it," Maya mumbled.

Desi's gaze dropped to her hand. "What happened to your palm?"

Oh yeah. Mittens had decided her hand was a scratching post that morning. "Cat. He's mad at me for existing."

"Classic." Desi stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You know why the Garcías have that sphinx, right?"

Maya blinked. "Rich people aesthetics?"

"Nope." Desi's eyes gleamed. "Sophia García's abuela gave it to her. Said any girl who wants to know her future has to ask the sphinx three questions under the full moon." She nodded toward the stone creature. "Tonight's a full moon."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Exactly." Desi grinned. "Wanna go ask it something anyway?"

And somehow, five minutes later, Maya was knee-deep in the shallow end, dripping wet (her shorts completely soaked through), Desi beside her under the full moon, whispering the most ridiculous questions to a stone statue while Tyler Hernandez pretended not to stare.

She'd remember this night years later—not the splashing, not the music, but the moment she stopped being the girl by the edge and became someone who jumped in, scratches and all.