The Sphinx of 7th Period

Marcus sat in the back of Mr. Henderson's art class, his sketchbook open to yet another failed drawing of a sphinx. It looked like a cat with a human face that had seen better days — or maybe just better makeup.

"Dude, that sphinx looks like it's about to ask you for your lunch money," whispered Jasmine from the next table, her bright orange hair falling over her eyes as she leaned over. She'd dyed it over the weekend, a rebellious move against her mom's "no drastic changes before finals" rule.

"Sphinxes don't ask for money," Marcus muttered, erasing the nose for the fifth time. "They ask riddles. Then they eat you if you get it wrong."

"Big mood," Jasmine snorted, flipping her own sketchbook open. She was working on a series of weirdly anatomical fruit portraits. Currently on deck: a disgruntled orange.

Marcus's phone buzzed. His mom, again: "Did you take your vitamin D and zinc supplements? Dr. Patel said they help with acne, and with semiformal coming up..."

The vitamin situation was his mom's latest obsession. Every morning, the kitchen counter looked like a pharmacy, and Marcus stood there swallowing what felt like an entire pharmacy of pills while his mom watched like a hawk.

"I'm taking them, Mom," he typed back, lying. He'd stopped three days ago. They made his stomach feel weird, and anyway, nothing helped with the massive breakout on his chin that had arrived just in time for semiformal season.

"So, semiformal," Jasmine said, her voice casual but her eyes not meeting his. "You going?"

The question hit Marcus like a physical blow. "I don't know. Probably not."

"Same," she said, too quickly.

Marcus stared at his sphinx sketch. The sphinx's riddle echoed in his mind: What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening? The answer was "man" — a whole lifetime in one day. Marcus felt like he was stuck at some awkward time between phases, too many legs or not enough.

"My mom says zinc and vitamin D help with skin," Jasmine offered suddenly, her face turning the same shade as her hair. "If you wanted to, like, try taking them together or something. We could... I don't know, compare notes?"

Marcus looked up. Jasmine's cheeks were flushed. She was actually nervous. Jasmine, with her orange hair and her weird fruit art and her tendency to speak her mind about everything, was nervous about asking him to... what? Complain about acne together?

"That sounds cool," Marcus heard himself say. "Yeah. I'd like that."

The bell rang. As they packed up, Marcus slid his failed sphinx sketch toward her. "For your collection of weird stuff."

Jasmine grinned, tucking it into her bag. "The sphinx of 7th period art," she declared. "At least it asked better questions than Henderson's pop quizzes."

Walking out, Marcus's phone buzzed again. His mom: "Also, I bought orange juice with calcium. Thought you might like it."

He smiled, typing back: "Thanks, Mom."

For the first time all week, the semiformal didn't feel like an impending disaster. Maybe sphinxes didn't always have to eat you when you got the riddle wrong. Sometimes they just sat next to you in art class with orange hair and offered to compare vitamin regimens.

Marcus walked into the hallway, navigating the chaos of lunch period. The sphinx had nothing on high school.