The Truth About Sphinxes

The county fair smelled like fried dough and desperation, which honestly described my whole sophomore year. I stood before the Sphinx of Truth — this plywood monstrosity painted gold with LED eyes that changed color — while my friends livestreamed from their phones.

"Step right up!" yelled carnies Steve, whose handlebar mustache deserved its own Instagram. "The Sphinx sees your soul! Twenty bucks for the answer you've been searching for!"

"That's such bull," muttered Kayla, though she'd already Venmo'd him. We'd all been doing everything together since seventh grade, but lately I felt like I was playing a role I hadn't auditioned for.

My little brother's ancient terrier, Barnaby, had escaped our yard again. Mom texted: YOUR DOG IS AT THE FAIR. I spotted him three booths over, snatching a fallen corndog while some toddler screamed.

"I'll get him," I said, relieved for an out.

"No way," said Tyler, finally looking up from TikTok. "You're next. This is, like, literally peak content."

So I sat on the plastic throne. The Sphinx's mechanical mouth opened with a sound like a dying printer.

"TEENAGER," it intoned, in a voice that was 100% just Siri playing through cheap speakers. "YOUR QUESTION: WHO ARE YOU WHEN NOBODY'S WATCHING?"

The Sphinx's eye turned pink, indicating I had thirty seconds. My friends held their breath, waiting for something Instagrammable. But something cracked open in my chest.

I thought about midnight dance parties in my bedroom. The secret fanfiction I wrote. How I genuinely preferred old movies to TikTok. How I'd been pretending to find Tyler funny since eighth grade because that's what you do when you're part of a group.

"I'm," I started, then said it louder. "I'm someone who actually kind of likes being alone sometimes."

Silence. Then Kayla exhaled like she'd been underwater.

"Same," she said quietly.

"Yeah," said Tyler. "I hate beer pong. I only play because... I don't know."

"That's such bull," I said, but I was smiling. "You literally suck at it. Everyone knows."

Barnaby trotted over, corndog still in his mouth like a trophy. He sat at my feet, looking like he'd just unlocked life's final boss.

The Sphinx's eyes flashed rainbow.

"CORRECT," it announced. "YOUR PRIZE: THE TRUTH THAT EVERYONE'S FAKING IT TOO."

Okay, maybe the carnie was a genius.

We left the booth and sat on the grass by the tractor pull, sharing stale churros and talking about real stuff for the first time in forever. Barnaby curled up between us, snoring gently, absolutely satisfied with himself.

"You know," Kayla said, watching the sunset turn everything purple and gold, "that was the least cringey thing we've done all summer."

"Agreed," I said, leaning back on my elbows. "But next time, we're just letting the dog pick the activities."