The Pyramid Scheme

Jordan's living room smelled like tropical punch and desperation. Six of us sat cross-legged on the carpet while Marcus stood in front of a whiteboard he'd dragged from his dad's home office, drawing a triangle.

"It's not a pyramid scheme," Marcus said, his voice cracking exactly how it did when he talked to Taylor in chem lab. "It's a multi-level marketing opportunity. My cousin's already making three grand a month selling these energy drinks."

Three grand. My ass.

The whiteboard showed that familiar shape—wide at the bottom, point at the top—except Marcus had written "FREEDOM" at the peak in aggressive capital letters. I'd been his best friend since sixth grade, back when we both thought we'd become NBA stars, but this was new. This was a whole new level of delusion.

"Bro," I said, "you have to recruit people to make money. That's literally the definition."

Marcus's face hardened. "You're just negative. That's why you're still working at that pizza place while I'm building an empire."

Ouch.

Taylor shook her head slowly. "This sounds like bull, Marcus. Actual bull."

"Fine," Marcus snapped. "Don't join. But don't come crying when I'm driving a Tesla and you're still taking the bus."

That night, I lay in bed scrolling through Marcus's Instagram. He'd posted a photo of himself holding a can of that energy drink, captioned: The grind doesn't sleep. #entrepreneur #bossmoves

I couldn't bear it. Not the cringe—that was whatever—but the realization that the gap between us was widening. Middle school Jordan and Marcus would've laughed at this together. Now I was the hater and he was the CEO of nothing.

Two weeks later, Marcus's cousin posted a long Facebook thread admitting the whole thing was a scam. Marcus deleted his Instagram.

I found him sitting on the curb outside school, staring at his phone like it might magically unscrew his life.

"Hey," I said, sitting beside him.

"I'm an idiot."

"Yeah," I said. "But you're our idiot."

He laughed, this small broken sound. "How did you know?"

"About the pyramid scheme? I've known you since we were twelve. You once tried to sell me rocks from your backyard because they had 'good energy.'"

Marcus shoved my shoulder. "I was eleven."

"Details."

We watched the soccer team practice in the distance, the sun sinking behind the bleachers. Some things change. Some things don't.

"You want pizza?" I asked. "My treat."

Marcus stood up, brushing off his jeans. "Only if I can tell you about my new NFT idea."

I groaned. "Absolutely not."

"Worth a shot."