The Sphinx's Riddle

Maya's thumb hovered over her iPhone screen, the blue light illuminating her bedroom in the dead of night. Three unread DMs from someone who'd ghosted her two weeks ago. Classic.

"You're still doomscrolling?" Her older brother leaned against her doorframe, holding their family's ancient orange cat like a furry baby. "Even Sphinx over here knows when to sleep."

"Very funny." Maya rolled her eyes but set the phone face down. Sphinx — the cat, not the mythological creature — blinked slowly and purred like a tiny engine.

Next day at school, Zoë was waiting by Maya's locker like she'd been summoned. "Party at Jordan's tonight. You coming?"

Maya's stomach did that familiar flip. Jordan's parties were legendary — and terrifying. "I don't know..."

"Come on." Zoë's grin was sharp, almost fox-like. "You can't spend your whole life hiding behind that phone screen."

The party was already chaotic when they arrived. Maya gripped her iPhone like a lifeline, ready to bolt. Then she saw her: a girl her age sitting cross-legged on a countertop, surrounded by a captivated audience.

"Let me see." The girl grabbed someone's hand, studying their palm like it held the secrets of the universe. "You're going to have to choose soon. Between what you want and what they expect."

Maya found herself somehow at the front of the crowd. The girl — Raven, apparently — looked up with eyes that seemed to see everything.

"Your turn." Raven's palm was warm and slightly calloused as she traced the lines on Maya's hand. "You're always looking for answers outside yourself. But the real sphinx here is your own doubt."

"My doubt is a sphinx?" Maya heard herself ask.

"It asks you riddles every day." Raven's voice dropped. "'Who am I?' 'Do they like me?' 'Am I enough?' And you keep solving them wrong because you're looking for someone else's answers."

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn't check it.

"So what's the solution?" she whispered.

Raven smiled, revealing something mischievous and genuine. "You stop answering the riddles and start asking your own questions."

Later that night, Maya lay in bed, Sphinx curled against her side. She opened Instagram one last time, saw Zoë had posted a photo from the party. Maya was in the background, laughing, not looking at her phone.

She double-tapped the photo. Then she deleted her drafts of twelve different responses to those ghosting DMs, turned off her phone, and for the first time in forever, fell asleep without checking it first.