The Sphinx of Section 7B

Maya's brain felt like it had been chewed on by actual zombies. Three consecutive nights of raiding in Destiny will do that to you. She dragged herself through the hallway, probably looking like one of the undead herself—hair in a chaotic bun, eyes half-lidded, moving on pure caffeine and spite.

"You look terrible," said Liam, her neighbor and unfortunately the person she'd been lowkey spying on via Instagram stories for three months. He was leaning against the lockers, effortlessly put together in that way that made Maya's chest do that annoying fluttery thing.

"Thanks," Maya deadpanned. "I'm running on like two hours of sleep and vibes."

"Cool cool," he nodded, then grinned. "Hey, did you finish that English essay? The one about—"

"The Sphinx riddle thing?" Maya finished for him. "Yeah. I turned it into a whole metaphor about how everyone's got secrets they're protecting, and the Sphinx is just that gatekeeper who decides who gets to know the truth. Pretty deep, right?"

Liam laughed, and Maya tried not to make it obvious that she was cataloging the sound like some sort of emotional evidence. "That's actually really clever. I wrote about how the Sphinx represents all the questions we're too scared to ask ourselves."

Maya blinked. That was... unexpectedly profound?

"Wait," she said. "Since when are you all philosophical and stuff?"

"Since my mom signed me up for that gifted program, apparently," he shrugged, then looked at her sideways. "Hey, you doing anything this weekend? My cable's messed up and I can't finish this show we were both talking about in English. Figured maybe we could... I don't know, study or whatever?"

Maya's heart did this full gymnastics routine. "Study. Right. Totally." She paused. "Was that an invitation? Because I'm genuinely asking before I get my hopes up like an idiot."

"It was absolutely an invitation," he said, smiling in that way that made everything feel lighter. "Saturday at 3? Bring your zombie self. I have snacks."

Maya walked to class feeling significantly less undead, her phone already buzzing with a text from her best friend: "I SAW THAT. DETAILS. NOW."

Maybe the Sphinx wasn't so unsolvable after all. Sometimes the riddles we think are impossible are just waiting for someone brave enough—or tired enough—to finally ask the right questions.