The Goldfish at the Top of the Pyramid

The social pyramid at Northwood High was as real as geometry homework, and Maya had spent her first two weeks stuck at the base—right next to the lockers that always smelled like leftover cafeteria tater tots. But today was different. Today, she was running late, her tote bag thumping against her hip with every stride down the hallway, because she'd agreed to petsit for THE Chloe Martinez.

Chloe, who sat at the very apex of the pyramid. Chloe, whose Instagram stories got more views than some small countries. Chloe, who needed someone to feed her goldfish while she visited her college boyfriend for the weekend.

"You're not gonna forget, right?" Chloe had asked yesterday, flipping herperfectly curled hair. "Barnaby's basically my child."

"Got it covered," Maya had said, trying to sound chill instead of like she was internally screaming.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Chloe: Also, there's vitamin supplements on the counter. One drop, NOT two. Don't kill him, lol.

Maya had been so focused on not being a goldfish murderer that she'd barely processed the social implications. But as she jogged toward Chloe's house after school, something shifted. The pyramid wasn't this immutable force she had to climb alone. It was just people. People who needed things. People who asked for help with goldfish nutrition.

Barnaby stared at her through the glass with what she swore was judgment. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, carefully measuring one drop of the vitamin solution. "We're all just swimming in circles, buddy."

That night, she FaceTimed Chloe to prove Barnaby was still alive. Chloe actually laughed—like, for real, not her performative Instagram laugh.

"You're funny," Chloe said. "You should sit with us at lunch Monday."

The pyramid hadn't crumbled, but maybe—just maybe—Maya had found her own way to climb it. One goldfish at a time.