The Sphinx's Last Question

Maya stood in front of the bathroom mirror at Tyler's house party, fixing her eyeliner for the third time. She felt like a zombie—exhausted from finals week, dragging herself through social situations she wasn't sure she wanted to be part of anymore. The bass from the living room shook the floorboards, and someone was definitely vaping in the shower again.

"You look fine, Maya. Stop stressing," she whispered to herself, but her stomach did that nervous flip thing whenever HE was around.

She opened the door to find Carter leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. He looked up and smiled—that genuine one that made her knees weirdly weak.

"Hey," he said. "You survived escaping from the sphinx in the kitchen."

"The what?"

"Jenna." Carter lowered his voice. "She's interrogating everyone about their five-year plans like she's the guardian of some ancient Egyptian riddle. I think she already made three people cry."

Maya laughed, and some of the tension in her chest loosened. "I think I'll brave it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She could ask you about your GPA," Carter grimaced. "Trust me, I've been there."

They walked together toward the kitchen where Jenna—aka "the sphinx" of junior year—was holding court. She had way too much iced coffee for 11 PM and was definitely still in debate mode.

"Maya!" Jenna called out over the music. "Okay, real talk: what's your deal with college applications? Everyone's saying you're going full pre-med, but I heard you've been secretly writing that fantasy novel for like, two years."

The room went quiet. Maya felt all eyes on her—felt the weight of everyone's expectations and judgments and curiosity. She'd been dodging this question for months, hiding pieces of herself to fit into boxes other people had built.

Her cat, Nimbus, would be so disappointed in her right now. At least he never cared what anyone thought.

"Actually," Maya said, her voice surprisingly steady, "I'm doing both. Pre-med AND writing. People can be more than one thing, you know."

Jenna blinked. Carter shot her a proud grin from across the room.

"Okay but that's bull—" someone started, but Carter cut them off.

"No, it's not. Maya's been staying up till 2 AM writing literally every night. Her book is actually sick."

Maya felt heat rise to her cheeks, but not the bad kind. The relieved kind. The seen kind.

"Wait, seriously?" Jenna's interrogation mode softened. "Can I read it?"

"Maybe," Maya smiled. "If you promise not to edit it."