The Sphinx's Riddle

Marcus's first week at Northwood High felt like walking through a level of Dark Souls with no armor and definitely no health potions. The ethernet cable in his new bedroom kept disconnecting every ten minutes — brutal when you're trying to rank up in Fortnite and establish yourself as not-the-new-kid-who-sucks.

Then there was the spinach incident in the cafeteria on Tuesday. Classic. Marcus had been talking to Maya, who seemed genuinely cool, for like five minutes before she whispered "you've got green in your teeth" and practically sprinted away. He'd spent twenty minutes in the bathroom mirror afterward, swearing off anything leafy and green forever.

But Leo was different. Leo sat behind him in English, wore the same beat-up Converses every day, and actually laughed at Marcus's terrible jokes.

"Dude," Leo said Friday, catching up to him at the lockers. "You coming to Jordan's party tonight?"

Marcus's stomach did that thing. "I wasn't invited."

"Jordan invites everyone. Also, I'm betting you haven't heard about the sphinx yet."

"The what?"

Leo's eyes lit up. "Old Mrs. Henderson at 42 Oak Street has this legit sphinx statue in her front garden. Legend is, if you sneak up at midnight and answer its riddle, you get to make a wish. My sister swore it worked — she wished for her crush to notice her, and they've been dating for three months."

Marcus blinked. "That sounds extremely fake."

"Exactly why we have to investigate."

That night, dodging tree branches and wondering if this made him a terrible person (yes), Marcus followed Leo and Maya through Mrs. Henderson's yard. The stone sphinx glowed weirdly in the moonlight, definitely creepy, definitely not worth getting arrested over.

Then Maya stepped forward, cleared her throat, and recited an actual riddle from Greek mythology she'd looked up beforehand. The sphinx stayed silent. Maya shrugged. "Worth a shot."

Marcus caught Leo's eye. Both cracked up. Something about the absolute absurdity of it all — the stolen cable from his neighbor's WiFi to get here, the spinach he'd carefully avoided all day, the mythological statue in suburban Ohio — just hit different.

"You know," Leo said, still grinning, "I think the real riddle is why we thought statues could grant wishes."

"Obvious," Maya said. "We're fifteen and desperate."

They ended up at a 24-hour diner instead, spinning wild theories about what Mrs. Henderson actually did with that sphinx. Marcus's cable was still broken at home. Maya had stopped noticing his teeth on Tuesday anyway. And sometimes, he realized, the answer wasn't a riddle at all — it was just showing up.

Maybe that was the wish all along.