Pyramid Fall

The cafeteria social pyramid hovered over me like a cursed artifact from Ancient History class. Top tier: the TikTok-famous kids whose followers exceeded our school's entire population. Middle tier: normal people with actual hobbies. Bottom tier: me, Maya, and the collective group of students whose biggest achievement was not falling up the stairs.

"You're literally shaking," Jordan whispered, sliding into the seat across from me. "Is it about DMing @cosmic_cat99?"

My stomach twisted. @cosmic_cat99—aka Chloe, the most gorgeous girl from Lincoln High—had been replying to my stories for weeks. We'd been talking until 2 AM about everything from music to mental health. Tonight, I was finally going to ask if she wanted to FaceTime.

"What if it's a catfish situation?" I typed furiously on my phone. "What if she's actually some 40-year-old dude named Steve?"

Jordan snorted. "Dude, her posts are literally aesthetic af. No way Steve's pulling that off."

The bell rang. I'd spent forty-seven minutes overthinking this encounter.

Running home, my phone buzzed. Chloe: "can't wait to finally see you xx" with a butterfly emoji. My heart did that thing where it forgot its job.

But then—another notification. @cosmic_cat99 posted a new story. It was a screenshot of our DMs with the caption: "lol look at this random trying to slide into my DMs"

My phone slipped from my hand, shattering on the pavement.

That night, I did something wildly out of character. I found my old sketchbook from middle school—the one filled with terrible anime drawings and cringeworthy poetry—and started drawing again. Not for clout, not for likes, but because I actually missed it.

A week later, I posted my first real artwork. Zero filters. No trending audio. Just... me.

Jordan texted: "bro this is actually sick??"

My phone buzzed again. A DM request. The username was familiar: @cosmic_cat99. But this time, I hit decline.

Some pyramids are worth climbing. Others? They're just waiting to collapse.