The Sphinx's Palm

Maya's sweaty **palm** hovered over the party invitation, her heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always did when social interaction loomed. Casa de Skylar. The social hierarchy's Mount Olympus, and Maya was basically a Greek tragedy waiting to happen.

"You're going, right?" Chloe asked, already scrolling through outfit inspo on her phone.

"Dunno," Maya muttered, grabbing her daily **vitamin** gummy from the kitchen counter. As if vitamin D could cure her chronic case of socially awkward energy.

The real problem wasn't the party itself — it was the sphinx situation.

See, Maya's older sister, Lena, had left for college in September, and before she bounced, she'd given Maya this wooden **sphinx** statue she'd picked up in Egypt. "Guard your secrets, Maya," she'd said, all mystical and dramatic, like she was in a movie trailer. "The sphinx only reveals itself to those who are ready."

Maya had rolled her eyes so hard she practically saw her own brain, but she'd kept the statue on her desk anyway. It became this weird ritual — every night before she slept, she'd whisper one secret to the sphinx. Stupid stuff. Cringey stuff. Stuff she couldn't tell anyone, not even Chloe.

I like the way Jordan's hair looks when he's thinking. I pretended to understand that reference in English class just so they wouldn't think I was dumb. I'm terrified everyone will figure out I have no idea who I'm supposed to be.

The night of Skylar's party, Maya stared at the sphinx. "Tonight," she whispered. "I'm actually gonna talk to Jordan. Like, more than just 'hey' in the hallway."

The sphinx said nothing, because it was literally made of wood, but Maya swore it looked slightly judgmental.

At the party, Maya's palm was already sweating again. She spotted Jordan across the room, laughing at something, looking unfairly good in that way that made her brain short-circuit. Chloe gave her a gentle shove. "Go. Before you overthink it into oblivion."

Maya walked over, her heart hammering. Jordan smiled when he saw her. "Hey! Maya, right? You sit behind me in calc."

"Yeah! That's me," she said, her voice doing this weird squeaky thing. "I, uh, I like your sneakers."

"Thanks! My sister got them for my birthday."

"Cool. Cool cool cool."

And just like that, they were talking. Really talking. About calc and sneakers and how they both pretended to understand references they didn't get. About how weird high school was, how everyone was faking it till they made it.

Later that night, Maya whispered to the sphinx again: "I think I might actually be figuring this out."

The sphinx still didn't answer, but Maya swore — just maybe — it looked a little less judgmental this time.