The Sphinx in the Basement

Maya's palm was sweating against the plastic cup of lukewarm soda. This was exactly why she didn't do parties. Especially not Jordan's parties, where everyone seemed to know exactly how to lean against walls with practiced nonchalance while she stood there like someone who'd wandered in from a different dimension.

"Hey, you heading down?" A lanky guy with messy dark hair gestured toward the basement stairs. "Cable's out upstairs. Everyone's migrating."

"Sure," she said, because anything was better than watching Jordan and his friends do that thing where they laughed too loud at their own jokes.

The basement was unexpectedly nice—low ceilings, string lights, a massive TV that someone was apparently trying to fix. And there, sprawled on an oversized armchair, was Zeus, Jordan's enormous golden retriever. Maya had always had a thing about dogs. They were better than people. They didn't ask if you were quiet because you were stuck-up or just boring.

Zeus lifted his head, thumped his tail once, and went back to sleep.

"He likes you," said the guy from the stairs. "I'm Leo, by the way."

"Maya."

"You're the new girl, right? From Seattle?"

"That's me. The Seattle import."

Leo nodded like this made sense. "So what's your deal? Band? Theater? That mysterious crowd that hangs out by the drama room?"

"None of the above. I just... read a lot."

"Cool." He said it like he actually meant it. Then he pointed at the wall behind her. "You see that sphinx poster? Jordan's weirdly obsessed with Egyptian mythology. It's been there since seventh grade."

Maya turned. The sphinx stared back with enigmatic eyes, its riddle悬 in the air between them. What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening?

"Human," she said aloud. "The answer's human. We crawl as babies, walk as adults, use canes when we're old."

Leo blinked. "Oh my god, you actually know it."

"I like riddles."

"Then you'll love this." He dropped onto the couch beside Zeus. "My cousin does palm readings. She taught me the basics. Show me your hand."

Maya hesitated, then held out her right hand. Leo traced her life line with gentle fingers, his expression serious but his eyes dancing with something like amusement.

"You're going to live forever," he said finally. "But you already knew that."

"How could I possibly know that?"

"Because you're the type who notices everything." He nodded toward the sphinx. "You knew the riddle. You noticed Zeus immediately. And I saw you watching everyone upstairs like you were taking mental notes for a documentary."

Maya felt something in her chest shift. "Is that bad?"

"It's kind of amazing." Leo leaned back. "So, Maya from Seattle, want to help me figure out why this cable isn't working? Jordan's going to lose his mind if he can't show everyone the new game."

"I'm terrible with technology."

"Perfect. We'll fail together."

They spent the next twenty minutes tangled in wires while Zeus snored in the background, discussing everything from Egyptian mythology to why high school felt like one long awkward performance. When Jordan finally appeared to announce the cable was fixed, Maya realized she'd forgotten to feel awkward.

Later that night, she checked her phone. A new contact: "Leo (Sphinx & Cable Guy)". Message: "Same time next party? I'll teach you palm reading if you teach me more riddles."

Maya smiled at her palm, which had stopped sweating hours ago, and typed back: "Deal."