The Sphinx of Seventh Period

Maya pressed her back against the locker, heart pounding like she'd been caught doing something wrong. But she wasn't wrong—she was just operating as a self-appointed **spy** in the cafeteria surveillance game.

Across the room, Jordan sat alone at a table, eating something orange and unfamiliar. Maya had been watching them for weeks, noticing how Jordan moved through the hallways like a **sphinx**—mysterious, unreadable, carrying secrets in those slightly-too-long sleeves.

"You're being creepy again," said Chloe, dropping onto the bench beside Maya. "Just go talk to them."

"I can't just—what if they think I'm weird?" Maya fiddled with the zipper on her backpack. "What if I say something stupid and they're like, 'who is this socially awkward creature and why is it speaking to me?'"

Chloe snorted. "First of all, you *are* socially awkward. Second, that's literally what happened when we met. Now we're best **friend**s. The system works."

Before Maya could protest, her grandmother's ancient chihuahua—who she'd somehow agreed to dogsit—started yipping from her backpack. Pepe was technically supposed to be a service **dog**. Emotional support, her grandma had claimed. For what, Maya had never asked.

"Is that a DOG in the cafeteria?" Jordan's voice came from right beside them.

Maya's face burned. Jordan stood there holding a container of cubed fruit—papaya, she realized. The same thing Jordan had been eating alone.

"His name is Pepe," Maya managed. "He's... emotional support."

Jordan's mouth twitched. "My mom says **papaya** helps with anxiety. She makes me bring it every day." They sat down without asking, like they'd been waiting for an invitation Maya didn't know she'd extended. "I'm Jordan, by the way. I've seen you watching me."

"Spying," Chloe whispered.

"Observing," Maya corrected weakly. "From a respectful distance."

"Respectful stalking," Jordan nodded. "Cool. Cool." They pushed the papaya container toward Maya. "Want some? It's gross but my mom insists."

Maya took a piece. It was sweet and musky and nothing like she expected.

Jordan's sleeves pulled back, revealing faded handwriting all the way up their left arm. Lyrics, Maya realized. And names. Hundreds of names.

"I collect them," Jordan said softly. "People's stories. I write them down so I don't forget."

"You're not a sphinx," Maya said. "You're a... librarian. Of people."

"That's the weirdest compliment I've ever received," Jordan said, but they were smiling.

Pepe crawled out of the backpack and curled up on Jordan's lap like he'd found his person.

"Traitor," Maya whispered.

But she was smiling too. Some spies got caught. Some secrets got shared. And sometimes, papaya didn't taste so bad after all.