The Riddle of Seven

In a bustling little town, part of an extraordinary school called Greenwilt Academy, there lived a boy named Eggplant. At 14 years old, he was not just any ordinary student; he was known for his knack for solving riddles. With messy hair that seemed to have a mind of its own and bright, curious eyes, Eggplant often attracted the attention of his classmates and teachers alike. The school itself was a whimsical place where the hallways whispered secrets and the classrooms were alive with creativity.

Eggplant’s father, Squash, was the school janitor, a role he embraced with pride and a glimmer of humor. Squash often shared his own humorous reflections about the world, but he had one motto that Eggplant had yet to fully understand: “Sometimes, a joke can lead you down a slippery slope if you make it six seven times!”

One sunny morning, as the light streamed through the colorful stained-glass windows, Eggplant prepared for his biggest challenge yet: the annual Riddle Showdown. It was a widely anticipated event at Greenwilt Academy where students competed to see who could solving the toughest riddles, and Eggplant was determined to win this year.

He arrived at school, brimming with excitement and a hint of nervousness. But as he walked through the school gates, he overheard Caleb, a quiet but brilliant boy in his class, discussing riddles with others. “I think the answer to the riddle of the three doors is… the middle one, when the riddle clearly says six seven,” he said with confidence. Eggplant’s heart sank. Caleb was always several steps ahead, and he had an uncanny ability to unravel the trickiest enigmas effortlessly.

“Hey, Eggplant! You think you’ll finally beat the reigning champion?” called his best friend Carrot, a lively girl with a talent for storytelling.

“I’m sure I will!” Eggplant replied defiantly, but deep down he felt the weight of doubt creeping in. As the day unfolded, Eggplant and his friends huddled during lunch, strategizing their moves for the showdown. “Remember, if you get stumped, just think about the riddle differently!” Carrot advised.

“Yeah, like Dad always says,” Eggplant muttered. “Don’t go making the same joke six seven times!” He chuckled at what he believed was a clever play on words, but Carrot frowned slightly. “You shouldn’t joke about his advice; it’s wise, you know. It means to approach problems differently.”

Eggplant waved her off as they headed to the auditorium for the showdown. As the competition commenced, a palpable energy filled the room. Students stood on stage, solving riddles one after another, until it was finally his turn. With a confident stride, Eggplant approached the microphone, ready to face the most intricate riddle of the day.

“Here it is,” announced the teacher. “What has keys but can’t open locks?”

Eggplant paused for a moment, a wide smile appearing on his face as he blurted, “A piano!” Cheers erupted, but then came the next riddle, a twist that made his confidence waver.

“What is always in front of you but can’t be seen?”

He had heard this one before. He thought hard, trying to picture answers. Yet, the answer was slipping away just like the laughter that followed his earlier joke. Finally, as the silence stretched, he froze, anxiety engulfing him.

Caleb stepped up just in time, cool and collected. “It’s the future," he said effortlessly. The auditorium burst into delighted applause, and Eggplant felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Going through the rest of the competition, Eggplant could only watch as Caleb sailed through each riddle with ease.

The final round came, and yet again, Eggplant faced another riddle. “What goes up but never comes down?” His heart raced as he scrambled in his mind. His friends cheered him on, but what would be simple for Caleb felt impossible for him.

Frustration boiled over when he stammered and took an incorrect guess. In that moment, Eggplant realized that pride had led him astray. He had been so focused on defeating Caleb, on winning, that he neglected the joy of riddles—their magic and wonder.

Taking a deep breath, he returned to his seat, realizing that maybe this was less about winning and more about cherishing the journey and the laughter shared with friends. With one last riddle shared and Caleb declared the winner, Eggplant clapped, genuinely pleased for his friend.

After the event, Squash approached him with a warm smile. “You know, sometimes you realize that it’s not about the trophies but the fun you had along the way,” he said, teasingly. “And remember, making the same joke six seven times can lead to misunderstandings—and less gigs!”

Eggplant laughed, understanding the lesson his father had imparted. “Next time, I’ll approach it differently,” he promised with newfound insight. He realized that true growth came from embracing friendship, learning to appreciate the talents of others, and allowing humor to flow without the pressure of competition.

That day at Greenwilt Academy turned out to be more than just a riddle showdown; it was a test of character, a celebration of wit, and a lesson in humility and camaraderie, something Eggplant would carry with him all the way to adulthood. And from then on, Eggplant understood: riddles were about the joy of discovery, not just the prize at the end.