Poolside Pyramid Schemes

I never thought I'd spend my Saturday dodging a pyramid scheme at Tyler's pool party, but here we were. Jake, Tyler's older brother, cornered me near the refreshments with that look—the one that says 'I'm about to change your life, bro.'

"Check it out," Jake said, sliding a glossy pamphlet across the snack table. "You sign up three friends, they sign up three friends, boom—you're making four figures a month selling premium energy drinks. It's not bull, I've already got two people under me."

I eyed the pyramid diagram on the paper, then eyed the actual pyramid of red Solo cups stacking up by the patio. Same energy.

"Jake," I said, "this is literally a pyramid scheme."

"It's MULTILEVEL MARKETING," he corrected, way too defensive. "You're just thinking too small."

Before I could explain that MLMs are predatory and illegal, Marcus splashed into the pool behind me, drenching my back. "YO! Marco! Polo! But actually Marco, come swimming!"

"In a minute!" I called back, then turned to Jake. "Look, I gotta—"

"Whatever," Jake cut me off, already scanning for his next victim. "Your loss. Some people just don't have the vision."

I retreated toward the pool, but my mom appeared at the patio door with a cutting board. Who brings sliced papaya to a teenage pool party? My mom, apparently. "Mijo! I cut papaya! It's good for—"

"MOM," I hissed. "You're embarrassing me."

She set the bowl down anyway. "It's organic! Try some, your friends too!"

A few actually did, which was weird. Tyler, of all people, tried a piece and nodded. "This is actually kinda fire, no cap."

Later that night, I found Jake recruiting two freshmen by the diving board. His pyramid diagram was waterlogged but intact. "You guys play sports?" he was saying. "You seem like bulls—strong, aggressive. That energy sells product."

I slipped into the pool, floating on my back and staring up at the starless suburban sky. The water felt safe. No schemes, no awkward conversations, just weightlessness. Marcus swam over and treaded water beside me. "Your mom's papaya was weirdly good."

"I know," I said. "She's trying to be supportive. It's... I don't know."

"Better than Jake's energy drink hustle," Marcus pointed out.

"Yeah," I laughed, splashing him. "Way better."