Poolside Pyramid

The community pool was practically a second home, though technically I'd been banned twice for running on the deck. This summer was different though — I'd landed the coveted lifeguard gig, complete with the whistle and the zinc oxide nose stripe that made me look like a polar bear with acne.

The real drama wasn't the swimmers. It was the social pyramid that formed every afternoon like clockwork. Maya and her squad had claimed the premium lounge chairs, building a literal throne out of pool floats — including this ridiculous inflatable pyramid that towered over everyone else. The hierarchy was painfully obvious: whoever sat at the pyramid's peak ruled the pool's social ecosystem for the day.

"You're seriously not going over there?" Jace asked, flopping onto the ground beside my lifeguard stand. We'd been friends since sixth grade, back when friendship was measured in shared Pokémon cards instead of follower counts.

"She literally just invited me to the pyramid, Jace."

"Yeah, and tomorrow she'll decide you're basic and exile you to the baby pool." He gestured dramatically. "I've seen it happen. Last week, Sarah got uninvited for wearing the wrong shade of blue."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. AGAIN. The charging cable had frayed months ago, leaving me with that desperate one-angle-only charging situation that defined my entire existence. I twisted it carefully, praying for the lightning bolt symbol. Nothing. Great. 8% battery.

Maya waved from atop her pyramid throne, sunglasses reflecting the pool's shimmering surface like she was some kind of chlorinated monarch. This was it — my chance to level up from background character to supporting role. Maybe even starring role.

I climbed down from the stand, heart doing that embarrassing fluttery thing it always did when status was on the line.

"Your loss," I told Jace, who was already opening a bag of chips with zero FOMO.

"Bro," he called out, "the cable's literally about to die. Don't come crying to me when you're stuck at 2% and Maya decides your vibe is off."

I should've listened. Because exactly 47 minutes later, my phone died mid-selfie, Maya declared my energy was "giving broke," and I got reassigned to the kiddie splash zone. Jace didn't even say I told you so — just tossed me a bag of chips from his spot on the concrete.

"Next time," he said, "we're staying right here. The pyramid's overrated anyway."

He was right. Some things were worth more than sitting at the top.