Pyramid Scheme

The pyramid hovered over my desk—a three-tiered construction of嫌弃和鄙视 at Westwood High. Base level: the normals like me. Middle: the athletes and theater kids. Apex: the kings and queens who ruled everything.

"You coming to baseball tryouts?" Marcus asked, spinning his iPhone between his fingers like a worry stone. We'd been best friends since seventh grade, back when being cool meant having the rarest Pokémon cards.

"You know I suck at sports," I said.

"Exactly." Marcus grinned. "But you're my friend. And I need someone who'll look genuinely impressed when I crush it."

Marcus had been acting different since summer. Trading up his hoodies for branded everything. Posting aesthetic sunset pics that got three hundred likes. I'd assumed it was just—growth. The kind that happens when you hit fifteen and suddenly realize the world's watching.

I showed up at tryouts. Sat in the bleachers with my phone. Marcus stepped onto the field like he owned it, swung the bat like he'd been doing it forever. Where'd he even learn to hit like that? We used to sit inside playing Minecraft while other kids practiced.

Afterward, the baseball captain—Tyler-freaking-Mills—actually dapped him up.

"Solid swing, man," Tyler said. "You should come to Jake's party tonight. Bring whoever."

Marcus's eyes locked on mine. "My friend here's got an iPhone 15 Pro Max," he told Tyler. "He's, like, amazing at getting aesthetic shots. For your story."

What? Marcus knew I'd never agreed to that.

"Tonight's party, you down?" Tyler asked me.

The pyramid tilted. I was being invited to the apex, but as what? A friend? Or a prop?

"Sure," I heard myself say.

That night, Marcus posted a pic of us with Jake and Tyler. Caption: *climbing the pyramid one rung at a time 🔥* I opened his story, saw he'd cut me out of half the shots. In the ones I appeared in, I was barely visible—a shoulder, a hand, someone in the background laughing at nothing.

Baseball practice continued. Marcus moved up. I stayed behind, documenting his ascent. The pyramid didn't change shape; it just rotated, and some faces became invisible.

Two weeks later, Marcus made varsity. He posted a pic with the team, grinning like he'd won the lottery. I'd been cropped out entirely.

Some friends are like baseball cards—valuable when rare, disposable when you've completed the set.