The Sphinx in the Snapback

Jordan's mom swore those neon orange gummy **vitamin** D3 supplements would fix everything. Your anxiety. Your lack of cool. Your inability to make eye contact with people in the hallway. Just chew two daily, she said, and watch your life transform.

So far, the only thing transforming was Jordan's collection of empty bottles under their bed, accumulating like evidence of a crime.

The first day of sophomore year, Jordan made a decision: no more hiding. Well, less hiding. The black snapback stayed pulled low—baby steps—but today, Jordan would actually speak to someone outside their immediate friend group of two.

The hat had been a gift from their older brother, who'd graduated and left behind a legacy of effortless charisma that Jordan had somehow failed to inherit. Wearing it felt like channeling something. An armor. A shield. A borrowed personality.

"Nice hat," said someone behind Jordan in the lunch line.

Jordan turned so fast they almost knocked over a stack of trays.

It was Maya Flores, who sat with the popular crowd but was secretly in Jordan's English Lit class and had written that devastatingly good essay on "The Great Gatsby" that the teacher had read aloud. Her eyes were crinkled with something that might have been genuine amusement.

"Thanks," Jordan managed. "It was my brother's."

"Cool," Maya said. "Hey, are you going to the homecoming game?"

"Maybe," Jordan lied. They'd been explicitly not invited.

"You should. We're doing this thing where the cheerleaders become a human pyramid and the football guys have to answer riddles from the pep squad **sphinx** in between quarters. It's hilarious when they can't figure out the easy ones."

"A sphinx?"

"Yeah, our mascot this year is 'The Riddlers' because our football team's success is supposedly a mystery." Maya rolled her eyes. "Anyway, you should come."

"Why?" The word escaped before Jordan could stop it.

Maya shrugged. "Because you seem like someone who'd actually get the riddles."

Later that night, Jordan stared at the ceiling, their heart doing something weird and fluttery. The gummy vitamins sat untouched on the nightstand. Maybe some things couldn't be fixed with supplements or brother's castoffs.

Maybe real transformation—the scary, exhilarating kind—required showing up without armor, without borrowed courage, without anything to hide behind.

Jordan picked up their phone and texted their first-ever invitation to a social event.

The sphinx would just have to wait.