Pyramids in the Deep End

The pyramid scheme started in the cafeteria, right between the tater tots and the social hierarchy. Tyler, who I'd known since kindergarten and who now wore too much cologne, leaned in with that look—the one that said I was about to make the worst decision of my sophomore year.

"Dude, it's totally legit," he whispered, sliding a crumpled flyer across the table. "You just get three people to sign up, they get three people, boom—you're making bank before junior year."

I stared at the flyer: ACHIEVE FINANCIAL FREEDOM. BE YOUR OWN BOSS. The pyramid graphic was so obvious it was practically mocking me.

"This is literally a pyramid scheme," I said.

"It's multi-level marketing," Tyler corrected, offended. "There's a difference."

That's how I found myself at Jessica Miller's pool party that Saturday, trying to recruit people I'd barely spoken to since elementary school while wearing a t-shirt I regretted buying. The air smelled like chlorine and desperation. Somewhere nearby, someone's phone played that same song that had been stuck in everyone's head for weeks.

Jessica's backyard was basically a social minefield. The swimming pool glittered like something from a movie where everything goes wrong. Popular kids cannonballed off the diving board while the rest of us hovered near the snack table, pretending we weren't calculating our next move.

Then I saw Marcus—the baseball team's star shortstop, the kind of guy who moved through hallways like gravity bent around him. He was sitting alone on a patio chair, untied baseball cleats still on his feet, watching everyone like he was memorizing them for a test he hadn't studied for.

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the humidity, or Tyler's voice in my head saying "just get three sign-ups," or the fact that I'd had a crush on Marcus since seventh grade health class when he'd lent me a pen after I dropped mine.

"Hey," I said, suddenly standing in front of him. "Want to hear about an incredible opportunity?"

Marcus looked up, and for a second, I thought he was going to laugh. But then his eyes crinkled, not meanly, just... tiredly.

"Let me guess," he said. "Tyler got to you too?"

My face burned. "You're kidding."

"He tried to recruit me yesterday after practice." Marcus gestured toward the pool, where Tyler was currently attempting to explain the business model to Jessica's very skeptical older brother. "Said I could buy a car by senior year. I already have a car."

We sat there for an hour while the party swirled around us—people swimming, music playing, someone doing something risky off the diving board. We talked about everything except the pyramid scheme. About baseball, about how weird it was that everyone suddenly acted different over the summer, about how some days high school felt like waiting for something that never happened.

"You know," Marcus said eventually, standing up and stretching, "I never did catch your name."

"Leo," I said, and something in my chest did this terrifying little flip.

"Well, Leo." He grinned, finally taking off his cleats. "Wanna get in the pool? Everyone's doing the thing where they pretend not to care, but the water's actually pretty nice."

Later, Tyler found me floating in the deep end, Marcus floating beside me, both of us staring up at the first stars appearing through the backyard oak trees.

"Dude!" Tyler shouted from the pool's edge. "Did you get any sign-ups?"

"No," I said, and I didn't even care that I'd failed at something. "But I made a friend."

Sometimes that's better than a pyramid. Sometimes that's everything.