The Goldfish at the Top of the Pyramid

The cafeteria social **pyramid** was brutal, and Marcus had spent freshman year at the absolute bottom — somewhere between the kids who ate lunch in the library and whoever smelled like ranch dressing every Tuesday. But this year would be different. This year, he had a plan.

"Dude, are you seriously wearing that?" Jamal stared at Marcus's head.

Marcus adjusted his grandfather's fedora. "It's called style, Jam. Maybe look it up."

"It's called *I'm trying too hard*," Chloe called from their table, barely looking up from her phone.

Marcus's face burned. He'd spent all summer **running** track, getting in shape, finally feeling ready to exist in the same stratosphere as people like Chloe. Apparently she hadn't gotten the memo about his glow-up.

The real problem started when Marcus got stuck working the fall festival booth with literally the most popular guy in school, Tyler. Tyler, who sat at the pyramid's tip. Tyler, whose hair somehow always looked perfect even in 90-degree humidity.

"Yo, can you hand me that **cable**?" Tyler asked, pointing to the tangled mess of wires powering the dunk tank.

Marcus fumbled. His phone charger had fallen out of his pocket, somehow wrapping around the dunk tank's electrical cord like some kind of electrical snake disaster.

"My bad," Marcus muttered, face hot.

"No worries, man." Tyler laughed, actually laughed, and helped him untangle the chaos. "So what's your deal? You're Marcus, right? Track guy?"

Marcus froze. Tyler knew his name?

"Uh, yeah. That's me. Track guy."

"Cool. I used to run, before I focused on hoops." Tyler grinned. "Hey, you want first shot at dunking Mr. Henderson? He's been talking about his 'glory days' for like, three hours straight."

Marcus wound up and threw. Splash. Perfect shot.

Tyler whooped. "Bro! What is this witchcraft?"

For the next hour, they just talked. Not as popular guy and bottom-of-the-pyramid guy. Just two people who both thought Mr. Henderson's stories were mid and both secretly hated how their parents treated their pet **goldfish** like royalty (Tyler's was named Bubbles, Marcus's was Sir Swimmsalot — don't ask).

At the end of the shift, Tyler pulled his snapback from his bag and traded it for Marcus's fedora.

"Keep it real, Marcus."

Monday at lunch, Marcus stood at the threshold of the cafeteria, Tyler's snapback on his head. He spotted Jamal waving him over to their usual table. But then Tyler caught his eye from the center of the room and nodded toward the empty seat next to him.

Marcus adjusted the hat and smiled. Some days you **run** toward who you're becoming, even when your legs are shaking. And sometimes, just sometimes, the pyramid isn't so scary after all.