Pyramid Scheme Panic Attack

Maya's palms were sweating so bad she could practically water plants with them. Which would've been ironic, considering she was currently sitting in Skylar's basement listening to some guy named Chad—seriously, Chad—explain how she could become a millionaire by selling vitamin supplements to her friends and family.

"It's not a pyramid scheme," Chad insisted, clicking through a PowerPoint that looked like it was designed in 2004. "It's a multi-level marketing opportunity. You're building your future."

Her cousin Jordan had dragged her here, promising free pizza. The pizza was lukewarm, and now Maya was trapped in a circle of desperate-looking people nodding along while Chad explained how they'd all be driving Teslas by Christmas.

The vitamins in question were supposedly formulated by "doctors" and contained "proprietary blends" that could cure everything from acne to anxiety. Maya's mom literally bought the same stuff at Target for twelve dollars, but apparently Chad's vitamins were special because they came with "entrepreneurial energy."

Outside, lightning flashed, illuminating the basement window in a sudden purple-white burst. For a second, Maya thought about just walking out. Into the storm. Anything would be better than listening to Chad explain the compensation structure for the third time.

"Maya, you seem like a go-getter," Chad said, suddenly focusing on her. "How would you like to secure your financial future?"

The pyramid of earning potential on his screen showed Chad at the top, then a smaller layer of "regional directors," then "team leaders," then at the very bottom—people like her. The math didn't math. She'd learned enough in algebra to know that for her to make money, like twenty other people had to lose money.

Her palms stopped sweating.

"Actually," Maya said, standing up and grabbing her backpack. "I'm good. My mom says I'm not allowed to join pyramid schemes until I'm at least twenty-one."

"It's not—" Chad started, but Jordan was already grabbing two slices of cold pizza for the road.

They ran through the rain to Jordan's car, laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. The lightning kept flashing like a strobe light at the world's worst party.

"Your mom never said that," Jordan said, starting the engine.

"Nope," Maya grinned, wiping her damp palms on her jeans. "But I'm pretty sure she'd agree."