Palm Sweat and Pyramid Schemes

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her joggers, leaving dark streaks that basically screamed 'I'm panicking' to everyone at the meet. The cross-country team stood in a loose circle, Coach Martinez explaining the workout for the day.

"Today we're doing pyramid intervals," he said, marking times on his clipboard. "Four hundred, then eight, then twelve, then back down. It's gonna suck, but you'll thank me at regionals."

Maya's stomach did this nervous flip-flop thing. She'd been running all summer to escape the social pyramid that Lincoln High basically was——jocks at the top, band kids somewhere in the middle, and everyone else fighting for the scraps. But now that she'd made varsity as a sophomore, she'd climbed a few levels, and honestly? The air was thinner up here.

"Hey, Maya!" Chloe sidled up, flipping her perfect hair. "My cousin says you should take this vitamin D supplement. It's supposed to help with endurance. Her friend's brother's college teammate swears by it."

Maya forced a smile. "Oh, cool. I'll look it up."

Truth was, she was already taking enough stuff. Protein powder, electrolytes, whatever her mom bought at Target that promised 'youthful energy' even though she was literally sixteen. The pressure to be faster, stronger, better than last season was eating her alive.

The whistle blew.

Running was the only time her brain shut up. No social hierarchies, no supplement recommendations, no expectations. Just her feet hitting the dirt, lungs burning, legs pumping. She passed Sarah, then Tyler, feeling that familiar surge——the one that made her feel like she could keep going forever.

Until she couldn't.

The twelve hundred interval destroyed her. She slowed to a jog, hands on knees, chest heaving. Someone——probably that junior who always looked like he was running for a Nike ad——lapped her.

"You got this, Maya!" someone yelled.

She didn't got this. She was tired and overwhelmed and suddenly sick of the whole pyramid——not just the intervals, but everything. The constant climbing, the fear of falling, the way every choice felt like it would determine her entire future.

After practice, she sat on the curb, untied her shoes, and actually looked at her palms for the first time in forever. Calluses from holding a pencil too hard during AP Euro. Calluses from summer runs. The little lines everyone claimed told your future.

"What are you doing?"

Maya looked up. It was Tyler, breathing hard like he'd sprinted back.

"Reading my palm," she deadpanned. "Apparently I'm going to have a long life filled with blister regret."

Tyler laughed——actually laughed, not the polite performational stuff people did at school. "Dude, same."

They sat there for a minute, not saying anything. The parking lot emptied out. Coach's office light flickered off.

"Hey," Tyler said. "You want to grab a smoothie? My treat. No vitamin talk, I promise."

Maya smiled——a real one this time. "Only if we skip the pyramid crap tomorrow."

"Deal."

Her palms were still sweating when she stood up. But somehow, it didn't matter anymore.