The Sphinx of Summer

The internet cable lay severed on my bedroom floor like a dead snake, and my dad stood there looking weirdly triumphant.

"Grounded. From screens. All summer."

I stared at him like he'd just suggested I eat dirt. "Dad, I'm sixteen. You can't just—"

"I just did." He pointed at my phone. "Hand it over."

That was how I ended up spending the first week of July lying on my floor, staring at the ceiling, while my cat Luna judged me from the windowsill. Luna was a rescue with one ear and major attitude, which honestly? Same.

My only company was the dog next door — a golden retriever named Buster who'd press his wet nose against the fence and whine until I came outside to pet him through the wood slats. His owner, Mrs. Chen, had this ancient stone sphinx in her garden, half-crumbled, covered in moss. I'd passed it a thousand times but never really LOOKED at it.

Until I had literally nothing else to do.

On day seven, Luna escaped through the back door I'd stupidly left cracked open. I chased her through two backyards before finding her perched on the sphinx's head like she owned it.

"Luna, you traitor," I whispered, creeping closer.

"She likes the高处," said a voice.

I jumped. Literally jumped. This kid I'd seen around school — Kai, from my history class — was sitting on Mrs. Chen's porch with a sketchbook. Quiet Kai who never spoke.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"Chasing your cat. I saw." His pencil moved across the page. "She's been coming here for days. The sphinx is her new favorite place."

I sat on the porch steps. "Since when do you draw?"

"Since forever." He showed me — it was Luna on the sphinx, perfect and detailed. "I'm working on a graphic novel. About ancient Egyptian gods going to high school."

"That's... actually kind of genius."

We talked for two hours. About art, about how much school sucked, about how he was moving to Portland in August. I told him about my best friend ghosting me for the popular crowd, about how fake everything felt sometimes.

"Friendship is hard," Kai said, shading the sphinx's broken wing. "The sphinx asked riddles because understanding someone else's truth is the hardest thing we do."

"Since when is a stone statue deep?"

"Since you have no internet and nothing better to do than think."

I laughed. A real laugh, not the performative one I used at parties.

That summer became about wandering over to Mrs. Chen's garden with Luna, watching Kai draw, learning that the sphinx had been her late husband's attempt at building something permanent in a world where everything — friendships, plans, people — kept changing.

When my dad finally returned my phone in September, I almost didn't care. The friend who'd ghosted me texted, asking to hang. I typed back "maybe" and put the phone down, heading outside to where Buster was barking at Luna, who'd resumed her throne on the sphinx.

Some things are worth logging off for.