Pyramid Scheme

Maya's first mistake was agreeing to help with International Night. Her second was wearing her favorite cat sweater, which now smelled like temporary hair dye from the Zombie Apocalypse Club's booth next to hers.

"You're literally a zombie," said JJ, the sophomore she'd been crushing on since August. He was leaning against her papaya display, looking annoyingly perfect. "You've been staring at that goldfish for ten minutes."

The goldfish—Gillbert, according to the hand-lettered sign—bubbled at her through the glass. He looked as out of place as she felt.

"I'm mentally preparing," Maya said, which was a lie. She was mentally dissociating. The social pyramid of high school had her squarely at the bottom, and tonight wasn't helping.

Her phone buzzed. Mom: Cat got into the papayas again. :(

Great. Even her cat was living a more exciting life than her.

"Need help?" JJ was suddenly too close, smelling like vanilla and confidence. "With the pyramid. For the Egyptian club display."

"Oh. Yeah. Sure."

They worked in silence until JJ said, "My sister says high school's basically just being a zombie for four years until we graduate. But she's dramatic."

Maya laughed. "My cat would agree. He sleeps sixteen hours a day."

"You have a cat?" JJ's face lit up. "What's his name?"

"Mr. PB. Short for Peanut Butter."

"That's actually iconic."

They kept talking—about cats, about how papaya tastes like feet to some people, about how Gillbert the goldfish definitely knew more than he let on. For the first time all year, Maya didn't feel like a zombie going through the motions. She felt like a person.

Later, when the gym filled with students and music and the papaya display won "Most Creative," JJ found her in the crowd. "Hey," he said, holding up his phone. "I found this video of a cat who's obsessed with goldfish. Thought you'd appreciate the irony."

Maya smiled. Maybe the social pyramid wasn't so rigid after all. Maybe she'd been climbing it all along, one weird conversation at a time.

"Show me," she said. And for once, she didn't overthink it.