The Pyramid Scheme

Maya's cat, Mochi, was the worst kind of co-conspirator. The calico had zero loyalty and a talent for showing up at the worst possible moments.

"You're literally going to get us caught," Maya hissed, ducking behind the bleachers. Mochi sat on the gym floor, licking her paw like Maya wasn't currently having a panic attack.

The plan had seemed solid at 2 AM: JJ—her best friend since kindergarten, nicknamed Bear after that one time he hibernated through finals week—needed social capital, fast. The high school hierarchy was basically a pyramid, with the popular kids at the top and everyone else crushed underneath. Maya, residing comfortably in the "socially invisible" layer, had learned to move through the noise unnoticed. A skillset that, apparently, made her a perfect spy.

That was the ridiculous part. Maya wasn't cool. She wasn't even on the radar. But she'd accidentally overheard something about Tyler, the junior class president, and suddenly Bear was looking at her with those desperate puppy eyes, talking about "leveraging strategic intelligence" like he'd read too many spy novels.

"Just walk in there like you own the place," Bear had said, adjusting his varsity jacket. "You're Maya. You're the girl who knows things."

Maya did know things. She knew that Tyler's girlfriend was texting his best friend. She knew that the homecoming queen was failing algebra. She knew these things because nobody noticed her listening—because Maya was background noise, a human-shaped piece of furniture in the crowded hallways of Lincoln High.

"This is cringe," she muttered, but Bear was already pushing her toward the gym doors.

The homecoming committee meeting was in full swing when Maya walked in. Twenty faces turned toward her. For someone who'd spent three years being invisible, the sudden attention felt like standing under a spotlight wearing pajamas.

"Can I help you?" Tyler asked, and something in his expression made Maya's stomach twist. He knew. Somehow, he knew.

Then Mochi strolled in through the open gym doors, tail high like she owned the place. The cat walked straight to Tyler, jumped into his lap, and began purring like a chainsaw.

"Oh my god," someone whispered. "Is that your cat?"

Maya looked at Tyler. For the first time all year, the pyramid didn't feel like a crushing weight. It felt like something that could be climbed—or dismantled. "Actually," she said, straightening her spine, "I think she likes you."

The room erupted. Bear met her eyes across the gym and gave her the smallest thumbs-up.

Maya wasn't invisible anymore. And honestly? That was both terrifying and exactly what she wanted.