Deep End Dynasty

The social pyramid at Lincoln High had Jake Miller at the apex—varsity baseball captain, hair that defied gravity, and a smile that made freshmen forget their locker combinations. I was somewhere near the bottom, probably between 'theater kids' and 'people who still ride the bus.'

But this was the last pool party of senior year, and I had a plan. My brother's old **bear** costume from his mascot days at community college was going to be my icebreaker. Nothing breaks tension like a six-foot grizzly doing cannonballs off the diving board.

The problem was, Jake was already there, holding court like the **water** itself parted for him. I hid behind the snack table, clutching a slice of **papaya** my mom had packed because 'it's exotic and sophisticated.' I felt like I was holding a grenade.

'Nice fruit,' someone said. It was Maya, the girl who sat behind me in AP Lit and drew anatomically correct hearts in her notebook margins.

'It's a papaya,' I said, brilliant as ever. 'My mom thinks it makes me look cultured.'

She laughed, and something shifted. 'I tried some at this weird farmer's market once. Tastes like, I don't know, melon that's been through some stuff.'

Then Jake Miller walked over, and the social **pyramid** suddenly felt very real and very climbable.

'What's with the bear suit?' he asked, pointing to the crumpled brown fur by my feet.

'Solidarity with my inner animal,' I heard myself say. 'Also, my brother said if I didn't bring it, I'm paying for his taco truck habit.'

Maya snorted papaya out her nose. Jake's perfect smile faltered, just a microsecond, and something terrifying and wonderful occurred to me: the pyramid wasn't solid. It was just people pretending to know what they were doing.

'My first time at **baseball** practice,' Jake said unexpectedly, 'I forgot my cup and spent two hours convincing everyone I was just really interested in architecture.'

Maya was laughing now, really laughing, and I realized I was too. The bear costume stayed on the ground, the papaya was actually pretty good, and somehow the three of us ended up having a conversation that wasn't about status or locker combinations or who was dating whom.

Later, as the sun dipped behind the trees and someone finally put the bear costume on and did a spectacularly ungraceful cannonball, I caught Maya's eye across the pool. She held up a papaya slice like a toast.

The pyramid hadn't disappeared, but something better had happened: I'd stopped looking up and started looking around.