The Pyramid Scheme

Maya's **dog** Barnaby—a chunky golden retriever with zero survival instincts—was currently attempting to eat a decorative rock in Mrs. Gable's immaculate garden while Maya practically hyperventilated behind a strategically parked minivan.

"Barnaby, NO," she hissed, but he was too busy discovering that rocks taste like disappointment.

This was fine. Everything was fine. Maya was definitely not hiding from her former **friend** Chloe, who had spent the last forty-five minutes holding court by the snack table like she was the undisputed queen of the social **pyramid** that was sophomore year. The same pyramid where Maya had apparently tumbled all the way down to the basement level after the Incident.

"Whatever," Maya muttered, dragging Barnaby toward the sidewalk. "Who needs a social pyramid when you have a dog who eats landscaping?"

Her phone buzzed. A text from her mom: Your **goldfish** died. I'm so sorry, sweetie.

Maya stared at the screen. Goldie had been a carnival prize from fourth grade. That fish had survived three moves, a cat attack, and Maya's brief phase where she tried to teach it tricks. Goldie was a warrior. Goldie was LEGENDARY.

"This is the worst day of my life," Maya announced to the universe.

The universe did not care. But Barnaby did, because he was now **running** full speed toward a pond that was definitely not approved for canine immersion.

"BARNABY!"

Maya sprinted after him, flip-flops slapping against pavement, hair escaping her messy bun, dignity completely optional at this point. She tackled him—lovingly but firmly—three inches from the water's edge, landing in grass that was definitely going to stain her favorite jeans.

"You are the WORST," she laughed, burying her face in his fur as he enthusiastically licked her chin. "Absolutely terrible. I love you anyway."

"Maya?"

She looked up. Chloe was standing there, solo, holding two cups of punch. The social pyramid momentarily paused.

"Your dog's hilarious," Chloe said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Also, I saw you hiding behind that minivan earlier. I was going to come over but Jordan wouldn't stop talking about his fantasy football league. Save me."

Maya blinked. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah." Chloe sat down in the grass next to her. "Also, I heard about your fish. That sucks. Goldie lived forever."

"You remembered Goldie?"

"Duh. Fourth grade carnival. You named him Goldie because you were extraordinarily committed to the bit." Chloe handed her a cup. "Anyway, I was going to ask if you wanted to come to my house later. My brother just got this new video game—"

Maya looked at her former-possibly-current friend, her disaster of a dog, the grass stains on her jeans, the mysterious social pyramid that apparently had trap doors.

"I'd love that," she said, and meant it.

Barnaby immediately sneezed on Chloe's shoes.

Friendship restored, apparently.