Pyramid Secrets

Leo crouched behind the bleachers, phone in hand, feeling like the world's worst spy. Mia had promised this whole stakeout operation would help him crack the social pyramid at Northwood High—she'd even mapped it out like some kind of conspiracy theory, with the baseball team at the apex.

"Dude, you're literally shaking," she'd said earlier, passing him a coffee. "It's just recon. We need to know if Tyler's throwing a party this weekend."

Now, Leo's golden retriever, Buster, nosed his hand,-whining softly. The dog was technically supposed to be at home, but Leo had figured bringing emotional support was fair game when your social life hung in the balance.

Then he saw them—Tyler and his squad, fresh from baseball practice, cleats clicking against the pavement. Leo held his breath, heart hammering. This was it. The moment he'd either infiltrate the upper echelon or remain permanently stranded in the middle layer with the band kids and AV club.

But then something happened that Leo's pyramid diagram hadn't accounted for. Tyler's phone buzzed. He picked up, and whatever he heard made his face crumple. Leo watched, hidden, as the guy who seemingly ruled Northwood's social order slid down the chain-link fence and put his head in his hands.

Buster chose that moment to bark.

Tyler looked up, eyes wet. "Who's there?"

Leo stepped out, feeling like he'd just triggered his own social suicide. "Hey. I... my dog got loose."

Tyler stared at him, then at Buster, who was already wagging his tail and approaching like this was totally normal. "Your dog?"

"Yeah. He's friendly."

Tyler let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "My golden retriever just died."

The pyramid collapsed.

Leo sat beside him, Buster resting his head on Tyler's knee. They talked about nothing and everything—baseball stats, the pressure to be perfect, how it felt like everyone expected them to be the bear that carried the team when sometimes you just wanted to be the person who could cry without it being a thing.

"I'm not throwing a party," Tyler said finally. "My parents are divorcing."

Leo nodded. He didn't record it. Didn't text Mia. Just sat there with his dog and the guy at the top of the pyramid, both of them just kids trying to figure it out.

"Wanna walk?" Tyler asked. "Buster seems to like me."

Leo grinned. "Yeah. He's a good judge of character."

The next day at school, Tyler nodded at him in the hallway. Not as the social king acknowledging a peasant, but as someone who'd seen something real. And Leo realized the pyramid wasn't actually a pyramid at all—it was just a bunch of people pretending they knew what they were doing, hoping nobody noticed they were making it up as they went along.