The Sphinx of Senior Year

The bass thumped through my chest like a second heartbeat. Stacy's basement party felt like a social experiment I was failing. I stood by the snack table, nursing a lukewarm soda, feeling like a **zombie** extra in a movie where everyone else knew their lines but me.

Then I saw Jordan—my best friend since sixth grade, now varsity jacket wearer and social ladder climber—talking to Tyler by the makeshift dance floor. Tyler, the guy who'd made my life hell in seventh grade. The **bull** who'd slammed my head into lockers and laughed about it.

I marched over, ready to pull Jordan away, demand what happened to ride or die. But Jordan caught my eye and gave this tiny, desperate shake of the head. Not now.

So I stood there like an idiot while Tyler said something and Jordan laughed too loud.

Later, I found Jordan on the back porch, sliding down the brick wall to sit on the concrete. The cold air hit my sweaty face.

"What's up with you and Tyler?" I asked, trying to sound casual and failing.

Jordan exhaled, smoke from their vape pen curling into the darkness. "It's called survival, Maya. You should try it sometime."

"Since when do we survive with people who literally tortured us?"

"Since senior year happened." Jordan's voice cracked. "Since I realized being the weird artsy kid wasn't gonna cut it for college applications. Tyler's uncle works at admissions. Connected."

"So you're what? Using each other?"

Jordan looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw it—the exhaustion behind the perfect smile. The **sphinx** riddle I'd been too blind to solve: the person who knew all the answers was asking for help.

"I'm just trying to figure out who I'm supposed to be," Jordan said quietly. "Aren't you?"

The question hung there, heavier than anything inside that party. And I realized we were all just faking it, all just zombies moving through the motions, hoping nobody noticed we had no idea what we were doing.

"Maybe," I said, sitting down beside them. "But I'd rather figure it out with someone who doesn't make me feel like I'm performing for an audience."

Jordan didn't respond, just passed me the vape. We sat there in the freezing cold as the party raged inside, two friends who didn't have the answers but at least had each other to ask the questions.