Poolside Pyramid Scheme

Maya stared at the **papaya** wedge on her paper plate like it was radioactive. This was supposed to be a casual hang, but somehow she'd ended up at Chloe Morrison's house—the Chloe Morrison, junior class president and unspoken queen of the social **pyramid** that Lincoln High ran on.

"You gonna eat that?" Ben asked, flopping onto the lounge chair beside her. His hair was still wet from the **pool**, chlorinated and sticking up in five different directions. Cute directions, unfortunately.

"Not really into fruit that tastes like feet," Maya said, pushing the plate away. "Why am I here again?"

"Because Chloe's cousin knows my cousin, and apparently that's enough to get us invited to the last party before summer officially ends." Ben grinned. "Also, I saw you have **spinach** in your teeth earlier, and I figured I should tell you before you tried talking to Tyler."

Maya's face burned. "You're kidding. You saw it and didn't say anything?"

"I panicked! It's not like there's a socially acceptable way to tell someone they have green stuff stuck—"

"Whatever." Maya stood up, brushing past him. She needed air. Or to disappear. Preferably both.

Inside the house, someone had put on a zombie movie marathon. A pack of sophomores were crowded around the TV, groaning in fake terror every time a **zombie** lunged at the screen. Maya squeezed through the kitchen, grabbing a sparkling water she didn't want, just to look like she had a purpose.

The sliding door to the backyard beckoned. She stepped outside, away from the noise and the perfectly curated chaos, and leaned against the railing. Below, the pool lights cast rippling blue shadows across everything.

"Hiding?"

She jumped. Tyler stood there, holding two sodas. His shirt said "NASA" across the chest.

"Observing," Maya corrected. "There's a difference."

"Smart answer." He held out a soda. "Want one? It's not papaya-flavored, so I figured you'd be safe."

Maya laughed, surprised. "You saw that?"

"Hard to miss." He leaned against the railing beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "You know, Chloe's parties are always like this. Everyone trying so hard to look like they're not trying. It's exhausting."

"Tell me about it," Maya said. "I've been mentally calculating exit strategies for two hours."

"What if we just... left?" Tyler asked. "There's a zombie movie playing at the old theater downtown. Real ones, from the 80s. Terrible special effects."

"Terrible sounds perfect."

"Cool." He smiled, and it was genuine—none of the performant stuff everyone else was doing. "We can stop for food. Somewhere with no spinach in sight."

Maya grinned. "I know a place."

As they slipped out the side gate, leaving the pool lights and social pyramids behind, she realized something: sometimes the best moments weren't the ones you spent hours overthinking. They just happened. And that was okay.