Goldfish in the Pyramid

The detention slip was bright orange. Of course it was. Mr. Harrison's signature glared at me from the bottom, making this whole situation officially official.

"Nice color," Maya whispered, sliding into the desk beside me. "Really brings out your eyes."

"Ha ha." I shoved the slip into my backpack. "For your information, I was saving you from social suicide."

Maya raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Oh? So spilling that entire bowl of punch on Jessica Torres's white dress was actually a heroic act?"

"It was an ACCIDENT," I hissed, though we both knew it wasn't. Not really. Jessica had been targeting Maya for weeks—tiny jabs, exclusion from group chats, the usual psychological warfare straight out of the Mean Girls handbook. The social pyramid at Northwood High had Jessica at the apex, and she made sure everyone knew their place.

When I'd seen Jessica cornering Maya by the punch bowl Friday night, something in me just... snapped.

"You're literally the worst liar ever," Maya said, but she was smiling. A real one, not the fake one she'd been wearing all semester.

"Whatever. At least we're in this together." I gestured around the empty classroom.

"Actually..." Maya winced. "I got out of it. My mom called and said I had a dentist appointment."

"You're kidding."

"I owe you. Big time." She pulled something from her pocket and slid it across the desk. A small plastic bag with... a goldfish cracker?

"What is this?"

"The goldfish," she said seriously. "It's ceremonial. You defended my honor. You get the goldfish."

I stared at her, then we both lost it. Something about the absurdity of it all—the orange detention slip, the pyramid scheme that was high school social hierarchy, this stupid goldfish cracker like it was some kind of medal of honor.

"You know," Maya said once we'd composed ourselves, "Jessica's been texting me all weekend. Asking if we're cool. She's never done that before."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Turns out, nobody messes with the girl who has a ride-or-die who'll sacrifice herself with a punch bowl."

I looked at the goldfish cracker, then at my friend who finally looked like herself again. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"Next time someone tries to climb that social pyramid by stepping on you?" I grinned. "We're bringing bigger bowls."