When My Best Friend Went Sphinx Mode

The hallway at school feels like being trapped in a pinball machine, and I'm the ball getting batted around. I haven't slept properly in three days — finals week will do that to you. I'm basically a zombie at this point, shambling through the corridors with dark circles that could double as black holes.

"Dude, you look like you just rose from the grave," says Jay, my best friend since seventh grade, sliding up beside me at our lockers. "Seriously, when was the last time you saw actual sunlight?"

"Har har," I mutter, shoving my chemistry binder into my backpack. "Not all of us can be morning people, Jay. Some of us need to, you know, exist after 9 PM."

Jay pulls an orange from his lunch bag and starts peeling it. The citrus scent cuts through the stale school air. "You need vitamin C, bro. And maybe, I don't know, sleep? There's literally no reason to be up until 3 AM playing video games."

"I wasn't gaming!" Okay, I was gaming. But also, I was having an existential crisis about college applications. Same difference.

The warning bell rings, and Jay's face does that thing I call sphinx mode — where he gets all serious and mysterious, like he knows something profound and isn't telling me. He's been doing that a lot lately, ever since his older sister left for college. It's annoying because Jay is supposed to be the guy who makes terrible jokes about cheese, not the guy who drops wisdom bombs like he's auditioning for a motivational poster.

"What?" I snap, shoving my locker shut harder than necessary. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Just wondering if you're actually happy," he says, handing me half the orange. "Or if you're just doing what everyone expects you to do."

The question hits me like a brick. Because the truth is, I don't know. I'm taking AP classes because my parents said I should. I joined the debate team because it "looks good for college." But do I actually care about any of it? Or am I just sleepwalking through my own life?

"You're doing it again," I say, popping an orange slice into my mouth. "Sphinx mode. It's weird."

Jay grins, and the mysterious moment breaks. "Just trying to get you to think, my friend. Can't have you going full zombie on me before senior year even starts."

I laugh despite myself. Maybe that's what real friendship is — not just having someone to sit with at lunch, but having someone who knows when you're sleepwalking through your life and isn't afraid to call you on it. Even if they do get all sphinx-like about it sometimes.