The Sphinx of Center Field

Marcus's palms were sweating so badly his grip on the bat was basically useless. Tryouts for the baseball team, and he was about to embarrass himself in front of everyone.

"You nervous?" asked Skylar, the mysterious outfielder who'd transferred to Lincoln High last month. She sat cross-legged on the bench, practically radiating cool energy.

"No," Marcus lied, wiping his hands on his uniform. "Just... ready."

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Probably another text from his mom asking if he'd eaten the spinach-packed smoothie she'd made for "brain power." He'd poured it down the sink.

Coach yelled his name. Marcus stepped up to the plate, heart hammering. The first pitch came — crack! Line drive straight to center field.

Skylar caught it effortlessly, barely moving. She jogged in, tossing the ball to the pitcher like it was nothing.

"Not bad," she said, falling into step beside him as they headed back to the dugout. "You're overthinking it. Like you're trying to solve a riddle or something."

"Maybe I am," Marcus muttered.

"What's the riddle?"

He looked at her — really looked at her. She had this way of staring at people, like she was analyzing them, figuring them out. Sphinx-like. That's what it was.

"The riddle is..." Marcus paused. "How do you belong somewhere when you feel like you don't fit at all?"

Skylar smiled. It wasn't mocking, exactly. But it wasn't not-mocking either.

"You think you're the only one?" She pulled out her own phone, showing him a photo: her at what looked like a fancy private school, wearing a completely different uniform. "I got kicked out of my last school for hacking the attendance system to skip algebra. My parents sent me here to 'learn humility.'"

Marcus stared at her. "You're telling me this why?"

"Because you're not the only one faking it, Marcus." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Now get back in there. Coach is calling your name again."

His palms still sweated. His heart still raced. But stepping back into the batter's box, Marcus felt different. Maybe sphinxes weren't just about riddles. Maybe they were about seeing through the stuff everyone else missed.

This time, when the pitch came, he didn't overthink.

Crack. The ball soared into center field.

Skylar made a show of pretending she couldn't find it, letting it drop, then grinned when he made it to first base.

"Not bad," she mouthed from across the field.

Yeah, Marcus thought. Maybe not bad at all.