The Orange Pyramid

Marcus was running on three hours of sleep and a gallon of resentment. Again.

"Dude, you look like a zombie," Jay said, not looking up from his phone as they sat on the curb outside school. "No offense."

"None taken," Marcus muttered, adjusting his headphones. The aux cable was fraying again—another thing to fix, another thing he couldn't afford to replace. "Being a zombie is basically my brand now."

It was week three of Jay's "side hustle." Some pyramid scheme selling orange-flavored energy drinks that tasted like radioactive cough syrup. Jay had recruited half the sophomore class, each one desperate to escape their parents' basements or fund their sneaker addiction. Now Marcus was stuck in the middle of the pyramid, technically a "Gold Level Distributor" but actually just broke and tired.

"You coming to the meeting tonight?" Jay asked, finally making eye contact. "Sarah said she might sign up."

Marcus's stomach twisted. Sarah. The girl who'd sat behind him in bio last year, the one who'd doodled tiny pyramids in the margins of her notes. The one he'd been crushing on since she'd helped him pick up his dropped textbooks that one time. Now Jay wanted to recruit her into this mess.

"I don't think tonight's good," Marcus said. "I've got—"

"Bro, this is our shot." Jay grabbed his shoulder. "We're so close to Platinum. Once we hit Platinum, we get the bonus pool. We could actually make rent this month."

Marcus looked at Jay—really looked at him. His friend was running on fumes too, dark circles under his eyes, wearing the same hoodie three days in a row. They were all zombies, really. Walking around school pretending they weren't drowning, pretending these little hustles would save them, pretending they weren't terrified of ending up like their parents.

"Jay," Marcus said quietly. "Sarah's smart. She's not gonna buy this."

"Everyone's looking for something to believe in, man." Jay stood up, brushing off his jeans. "Even the smart ones."

That night, Marcus stood outside the community center where they held their "opportunity meetings." He could see them through the window—Jay up front, whiteboard marker in hand, drawing that same pyramid diagram again. And there was Sarah in the front row, notebook open, actually taking notes.

Marcus reached for his phone, ready to call it all off, ready to tell her everything. But then he stopped. Because underneath the fluorescent lights, watching his best friend sell dreams he didn't believe in to a girl he couldn't stop thinking about, Marcus realized something worse than being part of the pyramid.

He realized he didn't know how to be anything else.