The Sphinx of Court Seven

The box hair dye said 'auburn cascade' but turned my hair into what Tyler loudly announced was 'radioactive pumpkin.' I wanted to disappear, but my mom made me take these gross hair growth vitamins every morning, like that would fix my life.

"You should try out for padel," Tyler said, not even looking up from his phone. 'It's low-key trending.'

I didn't want to do anything that required being seen. But then I saw Court Seven – the abandoned court behind the gym where the sphinx graffiti covered the back wall. Some mystery artist had painted this amazing cat-faced sphinx with the words 'I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE BECOMING.'

Weirdly comforting.

I started hitting against the wall after school. Just me, a borrowed racquet, and my radioactive hair. The sphinx watched. I could almost feel it judging my terrible backhand.

A week later, I heard footsteps. Sofia, the junior who sat alone at lunch, stood there holding her own racquet.

"You're holding it wrong," she said.

We played until sunset. She didn't mention my hair. She didn't ask why I was hiding behind an abandoned court. She just kept hitting these impossible shots that curved like they were defying physics.

"Why the sphinx?" I asked finally.

Sofia shrugged. 'My sister painted it before she graduated. Said teenage years are just one giant riddle anyway.'

We kept playing. I stopped taking the vitamins – my hair was still orange, but whatever. The catty girls in chem laughed less once they saw me actually having fun. And when tryouts happened, Tyler didn't make the team.

I did.

The sphinx is still there. I still don't know the answer to the riddle of growing up. But I know I'm becoming someone who's not afraid to be seen – even with pumpkin hair.