The Sphinx on the Steps

Leo adjusted his hoodie for the third time, palms already sweating. Fall formal was two hours away and he still didn't have a date.

"You're overthinking it," said Sam, slouching against the lockers in his vintage fox-emblroidered jacket. The thing was hideous—orange fur collar, actual fox tail on the back—but Sam had worn it every day since seventh grade. "Just ask her."

"Easy for you to say," Leo muttered. "You're not asking out the Sphinx."

The Sphinx. That's what everyone called Maya—senior class president, debate team captain, queen of cryptic responses in AP English. She sat on the library steps every lunch period like she was guarding ancient secrets, dark curls falling over whatever book she was currently destroying with highlighter and marginalia.

"Bro, she's literally just a person," Sam said, then paused. "Okay, a person who once made Mr. Harrison cry during Socratic seminar by asking three questions in a row about the nature of truth—"

"Your pep talks are terrible."

"—but still a person. A person who likes caramel macchiatos and has a weird obsession with Egyptian mythology, which I know because I heard her talking about it in line yesterday."

Leo stared at him. "You're actually going to be useful for once."

Sam's fox jacket rustled as he shrugged. "What are friends for?"

The bell rang. Third period lunch. This was it.

His heart hammered as he approached the library steps. Maya was there, legs crossed, book open. He caught a glimpse of the cover—something about hieroglyphs. Of course.

"Hey," he managed. His voice cracked. Smooth. Really selling it, Leo.

She looked up. Her eyes were this startling amber color, watching him like she was already figuring out his entire life story.

"You're Leo, right?" Her voice wasn't cold. Just... direct. "You sit three rows back in English. You never volunteer but you always have the right answer when called on."

His brain short-circuited. "You—you noticed that?"

Maya's lips curved up, almost imperceptibly. "I notice things. That's my whole deal. The Sphinx, remember?" She closed her book. "You wanted to ask me something."

"How did you—"

"You've been walking past these steps for three weeks, Leo." She stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I was waiting for you to work up the courage."

Sam was watching from across the hall, giving him an exaggerated thumbs-up in his stupid fox jacket.

"So," Maya said, tilting her head. "What were you going to say?"

Leo took a breath. "I was going to ask if you wanted to get coffee sometime and maybe explain to me what's actually happening in The Egyptian Book of the Dead because I have no idea and you seem like the person who would."

Maya blinked. Then she actually laughed—not this mysterious Sphinx chuckle, but a real laugh that made her nose scrunch up.

"Finally," she said. "A good riddle."