Poolside Zombies

The pool water glowed an artificial blue under the string lights, something about it feeling staged, like the whole night was one giant Instagram trap. I sat on the edge with my legs in the water, nursing a flat soda that someone had definitely spiked with something questionable, watching the chaos unfold.

Jordan's older brother Derek was holding court by the deep end, holding court like he was some kind of prophet, preaching about this "insane business opportunity" that was definitely a pyramid scheme. He had this energy, though—the kind where everyone's nodding along even though you can practically smell the desperation coming off him. Classic MLM energy, but with more hair gel and a louder Bluetooth speaker.

"You guys don't get it," Derek was saying, gestures wild enough to splash everyone within a three-foot radius. "It's not about selling. It's about building your network. Your team. Your legacy."

Legacy. The guy worked part-time at a car wash and lived in his parents' basement.

I felt like a zombie. Not the cool, fictional kind, but the actual reality: three hours of sleep, summer heat that wouldn't quit, and the constant low-grade anxiety about being sixteen and not having any of this figured out. My best friend Maria had disappeared an hour ago with Tyler from the football team, which—good for her, honestly—but left me drifting alone in the social current.

The pool was packed. Bodies everywhere, shouting over the music, someone cannonballing into the deep end every five minutes. I watched Derek move to his next target, some incoming freshman who looked like she wanted to evaporate into the chlorinated air.

"Hey," I said, sliding into the conversation. "Pretty sure that's a pyramid scheme, dude."

Derek's face tightened, just for a second, before the salesman mask slid back into place. "It's about financial freedom, little bro. You'll understand when you're older."

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to say that I felt older than him, that spending your high school years scamming people out of their babysitting money wasn't exactly a flex. Instead I just watched the pool water ripple around my legs, thinking about how we were all just pretending to know what we were doing.

Maria surfaced by the snack table, hair wet and smiling this private, devastating smile. I swam toward her through the warm, crowded water, leaving the pyramid pitch behind. Tonight might be messy and weird and slightly tragic, but at least it was ours.