The Sphinx in the Hallway

Marcus adjusted his lucky hat—backward, exactly how he wore it when he made the travel basketball team back in Chicago—and stared at Lakeview High's front entrance. The building loomed like a pyramid of social doom, each level more intimidating than the last. Bottom tier: freshmen and transfer students like him. Middle tier: the regular kids who played sports but didn't dominate. Top tier: the ones whose families vacationed in places you couldn't pronounce.

"First day jitters?"

Marcus jumped. A girl leaned against the wall nearby, reading a paperback with a sphinx on the cover. She had messy braids and wore an oversized hoodie that swallowed her hands.

"Something like that," he admitted.

"I'm Sahara." She closed her book. "Marcus?"

"Yeah."

"You know what a sphinx is, Marcus?"

He blinked. "Like... the Egyptian thing? Riddles and stuff?"

"Exactly. Guards secrets, asks impossible questions." She tapped her book. "But here's the thing about riddles—they only work if you're overthinking. The answer's usually staring you in the face."

The first bell rang. Marcus clutched his hat.

"Hey." Sahara gestured toward the entrance. "You gonna stand here all day or go own it? Your lucky hat's not gonna do the work for you."

He laughed despite himself. "Is that your riddle?"

"No. That was just advice." She grinned. "The riddle comes later."

Inside, Lakeview High was exactly what Marcus expected—groups clustered by the pyramid's invisible rules. But when he found his homeroom and spotted Sahara in the back row, something shifted. She caught his eye and mouthed: *Sit anywhere.*

So Marcus did. He chose a seat in the middle, not the back (too invisible) or the front (too desperate). His hat stayed backward, but for the first time all morning, his shoulders dropped an inch.

The real riddle, he realized, wasn't about surviving the pyramid. It was about finding your sphinx—the person who reminds you that the answers were inside you all along. And sometimes? That person found you first.