The Pyramid Scheme

Maya's palms were sweating so bad she could practically water plants with them. She gripped the carnival ticket so hard it crumpled, staring at the glittering pyramid of plastic cups that represented everything wrong with freshman year.

"You gonna throw or just stare at it all day?" Jake asked, popping his gum. His varsity jacket practically screamed upperclassman.

"I'm thinking," Maya said, though she wasn't. She was remembering how this exact moment—standing before the rigged carnival game while Jake watched—was basically her entire high school experience in microcosm. The social pyramid at Lincoln High was simple: varsity athletes at the top, then the cool kids, then the people who could sometimes get cafeteria tables, then everyone else. Maya and her friends weren't even on the pyramid. They were the ground the pyramid sat on.

"Your turn, kid," the carnie said. "Three bucks, three balls. Knock over the pyramid, win a prize."

Maya handed over her hard-earned babysitting money. She missed. All three times. The cups didn't even wobble.

"Tough break," Jake said, but he was already walking away toward the ring toss where Sarah was waiting. Sarah, who had somehow ascended the pyramid in record time, mostly by being terrifyingly confident.

"Hey," the carnie said. "You tried pretty hard. Want a consolation prize?"

He pointed to a row of plastic bags filled with water, each containing a single goldfish swimming in tiny circles.

"Seriously?" Maya asked.

"Memory spans shorter than your attention span," the carnie said. "Perfect pet for a busy teenager."

Maya took the bag. The goldfish—a tiny orange speck—seemed to stare back at her, like it knew exactly how uncool this was.

That night, Maya sat on her bed watching her new roommates swim around its bowl. "I'm naming you Pyramid," she said. "Because we're both gonna climb to the top eventually."

Pyramid the goldfish swam to the surface, opened its mouth, and blew a tiny bubble.

Maya smiled. "Yeah. That's what I thought too."

By Monday, Pyramid's bowl sat on Maya's desk, a weird little beacon of hope. When Sarah walked by and made a face, Maya shrugged. "What? He's got better survival instincts than most people at this school."

Sarah actually stopped. "Okay, that was unexpectedly savage. Good one."

Maya's palms didn't sweat at all.