The Sphinx by the Snack Table

Maya clutched her cup like a lifeline, the condensation slick against her palm. Jordan's end-of-school pool party raged around her—some sophomore she barely knew had already done a cannonball off the diving board, sending **water** cascading over everyone in a five-foot radius.

Her trucker hat, the one she'd spent twenty minutes perfectly tilting in the mirror, now sat crooked and ridiculous. She considered ripping it off and throwing it in the pool, letting it sink to the bottom beside abandoned goggles and lost dignity.

Then she saw her.

Leaning against the snack table like she owned the entire suburban backyard—Harper. The Sphinx. Eighth-grade Instagram royalty with 12K followers and zero posts that weren't absolutely aesthetic. She'd been cryptic in Maya's DMs all week: "maybe I'll come," "we'll see how I feel," classic Sphinx behavior.

Now here she was, actually existing in three dimensions, wearing a retro swimsuit that made everyone else look like they'd shopped at a discount bin.

"You're Maya, right?" The Sphinx herself approached, holding two sodas. "Jordan said you're in his chem class."

"Yeah. That's me." Maya's voice cracked. Because apparently her vocal cords had decided puberty wasn't finished destroying her life.

"Cool." Harper handed her a soda. Their fingers brushed. "This party's kinda awkward, right? Like everyone's trying to act like they're not terrified of being seen in a swimsuit."

Maya almost laughed. "Pretty much."

"I saw you earlier," Harper said. "You helped that kid find his goggles. That was decent."

It was such a small thing. Barely anything. But Harper had noticed. The Sphinx, who spent three hours curating each selfie, had noticed Maya being decent.

"Hey." Harper gestured toward the pool. "Wanna just—get in? Together? Might as well lean into the awkwardness."

Maya adjusted her hat. It was still crooked. Whatever.

"Yeah," she said. "Let's do it."

Harper's smile was genuine. Not Instagram-genuine. Actual genuine. Like maybe sphinxes were just people who were really good at pretending they had everything figured out.

They walked toward the pool together, and Maya realized she'd been **bearing** the weight of invisible expectations all afternoon—for absolutely no reason. The water looked perfect. The summer was just beginning. And somehow, impossibly, she was going to be okay.