Riddle at the Red Cup Pyramid

Leo stood frozen in the doorway of Jason's basement, clutching a lukewarm soda like it was a lifeline. His first real party. The red cups were stacked in a literal pyramid on the folding table—some kind of bizarre ritual he'd only seen in movies.

Across the room, Chloe sat on the couch with her legs crossed, looking like a **sphinx** guarding secrets. She'd barely spoken two words to him all semester, yet here she was, accidentally making eye contact.

Leo's brain short-circuited. He did what any socially terrified person would do: he pretended to be deeply interested in the **goldfish** bowl on the bookshelf. The fish stared back with what Leo swore was judgment. "At least someone's having a worse night than me," he whispered.

"Hey, new kid!" A senior Leo didn't recognize slapped him on the back, hard. "That the legendary **dog** from that TikTok?"

"What?" Leo blinked.

"Your phone case. That Shiba. My little sister's obsessed with those videos." The senior laughed. "I'm Marcus. You're Leo, right? From English?"

"Yeah. Hi."

"Full disclosure," Marcus leaned in, "I've never actually read The Great Gatsby. Just been **bull**-shitting through every essay since September. You got any thoughts on chapter four?"

Leo's anxiety unspooled into genuine laughter. "Honestly? Same. I think everyone's just pretending to understand what's going on."

"Finally, someone speaks the truth." Marcus grinned. "You're chill. Come sit before someone makes us play beer pong."

And just like that, Leo was part of a circle. When he glanced toward the couch again, Chloe was actually smiling at him—like, really smiling. Not the sphinx glare, but something warmer.

Maybe the **pyramid** of red cups wasn't some impenetrable social hierarchy after all. Maybe it was just stacked plastic cups and people who were all pretending they belonged there too.

His phone buzzed. Mom: 'How's it going?'

Leo texted back: 'Actually kind of great.'

And for the first time all night, it wasn't even a lie.