The Sphinx's Riddle

Maya's summer took a turn when her older brother Jayden left for college, leaving her to babysit his chaotic menagerie. A golden retriever named Buster who acted like he never got enough attention. A tabby cat named Sphinx who stared at Maya with unnerving judgment. And a goldfish—literally named Goldfish—whose bowl sat on the windowsill, doing absolutely nothing except existing and occasionally swimming to the left.

"You're not gonna believe who's coming to the party," said Zara, bouncing onto Maya's bed, phone in hand. "Ethan. The Ethan."

Maya's stomach did that thing it did whenever someone mentioned him—the flip-flop sensation that was both exciting and nauseating. Like the time she'd eaten expired takis before soccer tryouts.

"No way," Maya said, trying to sound casual. "Since when does Ethan even come to these things?"

"Since his parents got him that new gaming setup and he wants to show off," Zara replied, already scrolling through Instagram. "Rumor has it he's been asking about you."

Maya felt her face heat up. This was it. The moment. The one every teen movie promised would happen but somehow never did in real life. Except it was happening now.

But then Sphinx jumped onto the desk and knocked over the cable modem, disconnecting the WiFi. Because of course the universe would choose this exact moment to sabotage her.

"Sphinx!" Maya groaned, frantically replugging cables while Buster barked at nothing in the backyard like he'd seen a ghost.

Three hours later, Maya stood in Zara's crowded basement, holding a red solo cup she wasn't actually drinking from because her mom had that sixth sense about everything. The air smelled like cheap body spray and nervous energy.

Then Ethan was there. Actually there. In a vintage band tee and somehow making it look effortless.

"Hey," he said, and Maya's brain short-circuited. "You're Jayden's sister, right?"

"Yeah," she managed, while internally screaming. "He's at college now."

"Cool. Hey, I heard you're into photography?" He gestured to her phone case, which had a camera sticker she'd slapped on freshman year and never bothered removing.

"Yeah, kind of," she said, and then, because honesty felt important suddenly: "Actually, mostly I just take pictures of my brother's pets being weird."

Ethan laughed. Not the polite laugh either. The real one.

"Show me sometime," he said.

Maya walked home that night feeling like she'd swallowed a goldfish whole—tiny, fluttery, impossible. Sphinx met her at the door, and for once, the cat's judgmental stare felt almost approving. Maybe high school wouldn't be so bad after all. Or maybe she'd just finally figured out how to navigate its ridiculous riddles.