The Pyramid Scheme

Maya's phone buzzed again. Another notification from the group chat:

'Ayo fam, who's actually finishing the Egypt project???'

She groaned and buried her face in her arms. The social studies pyramid project—due tomorrow, naturally—loomed over her like a cursed pharaoh's tomb. Meanwhile, her phone screen showed everyone's Instagram stories, featuring perfectly tiered pyramid-shaped snack displays at Jordan's house. The whole squad was there. Without her.

'Totally bailing,' she typed, then deleted. Too desperate.

Her little brother Leo burst into her room, doing his best impression of a sphinx—arms crossed, deadpan expression, completely unimpressed by her existential crisis.

"You're doing the thing again," he said.

"What thing?"

"The overthinking lightning round. Where your brain attacks itself like, *boom boom boom,* everything's terrible, then you eat all my Goldfish."

Maya sat up. "I'm just saying, maybe they forgot?"

"They didn't forget. I heard Mom talking to Jordan's mom. They're doing the project there. Without you."

The words hit like physical force. But then—lightning. Literally. Her phone lit up with a text from Jordan:

'Yo, where you at?? We saved you a brownie and Tyler literally built a cardboard sphinx that looks cursed but like, in a good way??'

Maya blinked.

"Wait," she said to Leo. "They didn't forget me?"

"No, you genius. You just overthought yourself out of showing up. Again."

She stared at the text. Then another notification popped up—a photo of the whole group holding up an empty spot between them, captioned: 'Complete the pyramid 🔺'

"Oh." Maya's face burned. "So I'm the..."

"The missing piece, yes. Also, they ordered pizza. Your favorite."

Maya grabbed her hoodie. "Why didn't you say something earlier??"

"I literally tried! You were too busy having your quarterly crisis." Leo grinned. "Also, I ate your Goldfish first. Self-defense."

She shoved him (gently) and headed for the door, phone already typing: 'OMW, don't let Tyler near the sphinx.'

Sometimes the scariest monsters weren't ancient Egyptian guardians. They were the ones in your head, hissing that you didn't belong. But as Maya grabbed her backpack and headed toward Jordan's house—toward pizza and cardboard forts and friends who'd left space for her—she thought maybe, just maybe, she was finally learning how to face them down.