Social Pyramid Survival Guide

Maya felt like a zombie. Three consecutive nights of binge-watching dystopian YA shows until 3 AM will do that to you. She dragged herself through the hallway of Northwood High, eyes barely open, clutching her iced coffee like a lifeline.

The social pyramid at Northwood was brutal. At the top: the cheer squad and varsity athletes. Middle: the AP kids, theater weirdos, and stoners. Bottom: everyone else trying not to get noticed. Maya floated somewhere near the base, comfortably invisible.

Until Tyler moved into her calculus seat.

Tyler, who sat at the apex of the pyramid. Tyler, whose sweatshirt smelled like cedar and expensive laundry detergent. Tyler, who caught Maya staring at him during their lab partner assignment and flashed a smile that made her palms go sweaty.

"Nice notebook," he said, pointing at the zombie apocalypse survival plan she'd doodled in the margins instead of taking notes.

Maya's face burned. "It's... for a story."

"A story?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're a writer?"

"Sometimes."

"That's actually sick." He leaned in closer. "I've been trying to find someone to help me with this English creative assignment. You interested?"

What happened next was so bizarre Maya wondered if she was hallucinating from sleep deprivation. Tyler—Tyler Bennett, varsity basketball star, actual human being at the tippity-top of the social pyramid—was leaning against her locker after seventh period, waiting.

"So," he said, casual as if they did this every day. "I was thinking we could meet at the library? My sister works there, she won't snitch."

Maya blinked. This had to be a prank. Some spy mission from the popular crowd to humiliate the awkward girl with the zombie apocalypse notes.

But then she saw it—the way he kept checking his phone, nervous energy radiating off him. The tiny crease between his eyebrows. The uncomfortable shifting of his weight from one foot to the other.

Tyler Bennett was anxious.

The revelation hit her like a plot twist she should've seen coming. Everyone at school treated him like he ruled the pyramid, but maybe he was just another person trying to survive high school without falling apart.

"Library," she said, surprising herself. "Saturday. 2 PM."

His smile was genuine this time. "It's a date. I mean—a study date. Not a—"

"I got it." Maya felt her own palms start sweating again. "See you Saturday."

As he walked away, she pulled out her phone and texted her best friend: I might have a story to tell you. One that definitely doesn't involve zombies.