The Sphinx in Room 204

Maya's vitamin gummies sat on her desk like orange-flavored accusations. Her mom had bought them at the health store, convinced they'd fix everything — her grades, her skin, her entire freshman year existence. But they couldn't fix what happened in the cafeteria last period, where her former best friend Nicole had laughed at something Tyler said while Maya stood there holding a tray of lukewarm pizza.

That's when Maya saw them.

Three girls sat on the floor in the hallway, arranged like mini-sphinxes, knees pulled to their chests, watching everyone pass through narrowed eyes. They wore identical black hoodies despite the September heat, and something about their stillness made Maya's chest feel weirdly tight.

"Hey." One of them spoke as Maya walked past. "You're in Mr. Harrison's English, right?"

Maya froze. "How did you —"

"We know things." The girl's expression didn't change. "We're collecting stories. You have one."

So that's how Maya found herself in Room 204 every lunch, surrounded by the hallway sphinxes and their makeshift shrine of vending machine snacks and stolen library books. They called themselves the Riddle Club, but really they were just three girls who'd figured out that high school was basically one giant unsolvable question mark.

"Your friend," sphinx-leader Riley said one day, examining her cuticles. "The one who picked Tyler over you. That's not actually about you."

Maya's dog, Buster, had been sleeping in his bed all morning because he sensed her off-ness. Sometimes her golden retriever knew her better than anyone.

"What's it about, then?" Maya challenged.

Riley finally smiled. "It's about Nicole being scared she's not enough. So she overcompensates. It's not you, it's her vitamin deficiency."

"Her what?"

"Whatever she's missing inside. We're all missing something." Riley tilted her head like the sphinx Maya had seen in a museum once, all ancient knowing and zero patience for nonsense. "The real question is: what's your deficiency?"

Maya thought about the orange gummies gathering dust on her desk. She thought about how she'd let Nicole walk all over her for three years because she was terrified of being alone. She thought about how Buster had been her actual best friend since seventh grade, never judging her marathon sad playlists.

"I don't know," Maya said finally. "But I think I'm done letting people decide my worth."

"Good answer," another sphinx said. "You're in."

That afternoon, Maya threw the vitamin gummies in the trash. Some things you have to grow yourself.