The Sphinx of Summer

Maya's hair was doing that thing it always did when she was nervous—frizzing out like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket, even though she'd spent forty minutes with the straightening iron that morning. She stood at the edge of the pool, clutching her towel like a lifeline, watching everyone else float and splash and exist so effortlessly it made her want to scream.

"You coming in or what?" yelled Tyler, that golden boy who'd somehow made varsity lacrosse and student council president look easy. Maya hated how much she wanted to be part of his orbit.

"Maybe later," she called back, lying through her teeth.

That's when she noticed Her—the sphinx perched on the diving board, legs crossed, reading a paperback like this wasn't a party at all. Luna. The new girl who'd transferred from somewhere mysterious and showed up to school twice a week yet still had better grades than everyone. People said she lived with her grandmother in that weird house with the gargoyles. Nobody knew what to make of her, so they mostly didn't.

Luna looked up from her book, dark eyes locking onto Maya's like she was solving a riddle nobody else had even noticed. Then she slid into the pool with barely a splash, cutting through the water like something ancient and predatory.

"You're bullshitting yourself," Luna said, surfacing beside Maya. Her voice was weirdly calm, like she'd been practicing this conversation.

Maya blinked. "Excuse me?"

"About the water. About everything. I've been watching you stand there for twenty minutes, inventing reasons not to exist in public. It's exhausting just watching."

A stray cat with one torn ear hopped onto the fence nearby, watching them like a judgmental little philosopher. Maya felt something snap inside her—maybe her dignity, maybe something else.

"Okay, wow, rude?"

"Honest," Luna corrected. "I'm telling you this because last summer, I was the girl who wouldn't take off her cover-up at pool parties. I spent three months hiding in bathrooms because I thought everyone was staring at my thighs. They weren't. They were too busy worrying about their own insecurities to give a crap about mine."

The sun hit the pool's surface, scattering light like broken glass. Maya looked at Luna really looked at her—the small constellation of acne scars, the crooked front tooth, the way her hair defied gravity in multiple directions. She was beautiful anyway.

"So?" Luna asked, holding out her hand. "You gonna keep standing there like a decoration, or are you coming in?"

Maya dropped her towel. Her hair was still frizzy. Her thighs were still larger than society said they should be. She was still terrified.

She grabbed Luna's hand and jumped.

The water shocked her lungs, sharp and cold and perfect. When she surfaced, gasping and laughing, Tyler was staring at her like he'd never actually seen her before. Luna just grinned, all teeth and mischief, like she knew something nobody else did.

Maybe she did.