The Sphinx of Cedar Ridge High

Maya Rodriguez stared at the HDMI cable like it was a venomous snake. Behind her, the winter formal thumped with bass heavy enough to rattle teeth. Two hours until her speech for Student Council President, and the presentation slideshow wouldn't load. Classic.

"Need help?" A familiar voice made her jump. Leo. The guy who'd sat behind her in Bio since freshman year, the one she'd spent months pretending not to notice while he made dumb jokes about cellular respiration. The one whose older brother, Jordan, had graduated two years ago and become this legend—homecoming king, state champion, perfect everything.

Now Jordan stood across the gym, surrounded by his old crew like they were the Sphinx guarding some sacred riddle. Maya had spent years feeling like she needed to solve them—figure out the right things to say, wear, be. And wasn't that exactly what Student Council was? Another test.

"This cable is fried," Leo said, crouching beside her. "Bull. Why does everything break at the worst possible time?"

His hand brushed hers as he reached for the cord. Something electric that wasn't from any faulty wiring. Maya's chest did that stupid flutter thing she'd read about in books but never actually felt until now.

"We can fix it," she said, surprising herself. "But we'll need to reroute through the projector in the back."

They worked together in the sudden quiet of the tech booth, knees bumping, breath visible in the cold air from the HVAC. Leo told her about how his brother Jordan's perfect life had actually been miserable—how everyone expected him to be this golden boy, how he'd hated every second of it.

"He told me once that high school felt like being trapped with a Sphinx," Leo said, twisting wires together. "Constant riddles you have to solve. But the thing about riddles? They only have power if you believe they do."

The screen flickered to life. Maya's presentation appeared, but suddenly it didn't matter anymore. She looked at Leo—really looked at him—and realized she'd been treating her whole life like a series of tests she had to pass. But what if the answer wasn't solving the riddle? What if it was refusing to play?

"Your speech," Leo said softly. "You're gonna crush it."

Maya smiled, and for the first time in forever, it wasn't performative. It wasn't for anyone but herself. "Yeah," she said. "I think I might actually."