Stuffed Bear Summer

Maya's iphone buzzed for the third time in five minutes. Another group chat blowing up about Tyler's party tonight—the social pyramid was real, and she was currently clinging to the bottom tier.

"You going?" Leo asked, dropping onto the bench next to her. His dog, Buster, a golden retriever with more energy than sense, wagged his tail like he understood the question.

Maya pulled her baseball hat lower, hiding the flush creeping up her neck. "Probably not."

"Why? You're way more interesting than half those people." Leo tilted his head. "Besides, Sarah said you're cool."

Sarah was at the top of that invisible pyramid—homecoming court, perfect instagram, effortless social grace. Maya had done her history project partner rotation last month. They'd built a sugar cube pyramid and talked about everything except history.

"You know that stuffed bear you keep on your backpack?" Leo continued. "Sarah has a matching one. Her grandma gave it to her. She thinks it's cool you don't care what people think."

Maya's hand went to the small bear keychain dangling from her bag. A gift from her mom before she moved out. "I don't not care. I just... stopped trying so hard."

"That's what makes you cool though." Leo stood up, whistling for Buster. "Anyway, Sarah asked if you were coming. Said she needs someone real to talk to. Being at the top sucks sometimes, you know?"

He jogged off, the dog bouncing beside him.

Maya's iphone lit up again. A notification from Sarah herself: hey, save me a seat tonight? bring the bear, he's lucky.

She smiled, typed back, and thought maybe pyramids weren't so rigid after all. Sometimes you could climb them. Sometimes someone at the top reached down and pulled you up.

Tonight, she'd show up as herself—bear keychain, baseball hat, and all.