The Sphinx's Riddle

The cable dangled from my fingers like a dead snake, and I felt exactly as cool as I looked—which is to say, not at all.

"You good, Maya?" Jake asked, grinning that grin that made my stomach do actual gymnastics. He was already halfway up the pyramid of amps we'd spent three hours building for Battle of the Bands. Which I'd only agreed to help with because Jake had signed up for it, obviously.

"Totally good," I lied. "Just admiring the cable management. Very artistic."

Outside, lightning cracked across the sky like someone had taken a photo of the universe's bad side. The storm had been threatening all afternoon, a nervous tension that matched exactly how I felt about telling Jake I liked him. Or maybe how I felt about potentially performing in front of the entire school.

Probably both.

Jake's dog, Buster—a chaotic golden retriever who'd been designated "emotional support animal" for the event—came barreling through backstage, nearly taking out a keyboard stand. Jake laughed, that sound that made everything feel lighter somehow.

"Buster, bro, CHILL," he called down, still balanced precariously on our amp pyramid. "You're gonna destroy my legacy before it even starts."

That's when I saw it.

Someone had taped a piece of paper to the wall near the exit, printed with a photo of the Great Sphinx and beneath it, a note: *I know something you don't know about Jake. Come to the drama room if you want the answer. Riddle me this, Maya.*

My heart seized. Who knew? Who had noticed me practically drooling over Jake for months? And what did they know?

"Hey," Jake said, climbing down from the amp tower. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost. Or worse—like you remembered we have to actually perform."

I stared at the sphinx poster, then at Jake, then at the storm outside.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "Yeah. Just... thinking about riddles."

"Riddles?" Jake raised an eyebrow. "What riddles?"

I pointed at the poster. His face went through approximately twelve emotions in three seconds.

"Oh," he said. "OH. That's... that's from me."

"From you?"

"Yeah, I, uh." Jake rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking like anything but the confident guy I'd been crushing on all semester. "I wanted to talk to you. Alone. But every time I tried, I chickened out. So I made it... mysterious. I thought maybe you'd think it was cool."

The room was silent except for Buster'sTags wagging somewhere in the distance and distant thunder.

"Talk to me about what?" I managed.

Jake took a breath. "That I like you. That I've liked you since you helped me with that history project last month. That I was hoping you'd help me figure out if this whole music thing is worth pursuing, or if I'm just being delusional."

Outside, the storm finally broke—rain lashing against the windows like applause.

"Oh," I said. "OH."

"Yeah," Jake laughed nervously. "That's pretty much my reaction too."

I looked at the sphinx poster, at the amp pyramid, at this boy who'd somehow managed to be exactly as nervous about all of this as I was.

"Well," I said, feeling something warm and bright expand in my chest, like lightning, but the good kind. "I think the music thing is definitely worth pursuing. And the other thing too."

"Yeah?" Jake's smile was different this time—realer.

"Yeah," I said. "But you're going to have to drop the cryptic messaging thing. Zero out of ten, would not recommend."

"Noted," he said. "So... you want to grab food after this? Assuming we survive performing in front of literally everyone?"

The announcer's voice boomed through the venue: "FIRST UP—JAKE AND THE MYSTERIES!"

We looked at each other. We looked at the sphinx poster. We looked at Buster, who was currently chewing on someone's cable.

"We're gonna be great," I said.

And as we walked toward the stage, hand in hand, I actually believed it.