The Sphinx of Court Six

The papaya smoothie was supposed to be my escape hatch. Instead, I stood frozen at the snack bar counter, watching Chase McKenzie destroy some junior varsity kid at padel. His backhand was lethal, his smirk worse.

"You gonna order or just stare?" Maya said from behind me, popping gum. She'd cut her hair over the weekend — it looked good, annoyingly good. Like she was someone who knew exactly who she was, while I was still stuck in the humidity between childhood and whatever came next.

"Just thinking," I said.

"About Chase?"

"About how the sphinx at the country club entrance has more game than me."

Maya laughed. The real sphinx was this terracotta statue by the tennis courts, eyes painted with this unnerving knowing expression. Someone had taped a DRINK WATER sign to its base last summer, and it became a whole thing. People left offerings. Gatorade, mostly. Once, a three-day-old salad.

"He's not even that cute," Maya said, but she was watching him too. "Plus, he thinks 'rizz' is something you order at Starbucks."

I almost smiled. Almost.

Chase hit the winning shot, chest-bumped his friends, and started walking toward the snack bar. My stomach did that thing — like I'd swallowed something wrong, or maybe something right. I hated it. I loved it. I was fifteen and this was my entire personality now.

"Order water," Maya hissed. "Be chill."

"I am chill."

"You're sweating through your shirt."

Chase reached the counter, all golden skin and chlorine smell. "Hey. Can I get —"

"Papaya smoothie?" I said, way too fast. "Already made it. In my head. I mean, I can make it. For you. Or water. You probably want water. After playing. Padel."

The sphinx behind me seemed to judge this entire moment.

Chase blinked. "Actually, yeah. Water's good."

His fingers brushed mine when I handed him the bottle. The contact lasted half a second but my brain filed it away like evidence, like proof that I existed, that I was someone who could be touched by accident and not immediately apologize for.

"Thanks," he said. His eyes were kind. Not just pretty — kind. "You're new here, right?"

"Summer membership," I managed. "My mom —"

"We're having a party Friday," he said. "You should come. Bring your friend."

Maya made a sound like a dying duck.

"Sure," I said, like it was nothing. Like my heart wasn't doing cartwheels. "Cool."

He walked away, and the air rushed back in.

"Did that just happen?" Maya whispered.

I looked at the sphinx, still smiling its weird knowing smile. Maybe it wasn't mocking us. Maybe it was just proud we'd survived the first test.

"I think," I said, "we just leveled up."