The Pyramid Scheme

Maya stared at the lunch on her tray: a solitary **papaya** that looked lonely next to everyone else's pizza and fries. Freshman year was basically a social **pyramid**, and she was definitely stuck at the bottom—somewhere near the cafeteria floor, actually.

"You gonna eat that?" Jenna asked, sliding onto the bench across from her. Jenna was wearing that oversized **orange** hoodie she lived in, the one that made her look like a cozy piece of fruit.

Maya poked at her papaya with a fork. "My mom's new health kick. Says it's basically a **vitamin** bomb or something."

"Your mom knows we're literally fifteen, right?" Jenna laughed, then leaned in closer. "So, did you hear about Jake's party Friday?"

The pyramid shifted. Jake was at the top—varsity basketball, actually talked to people like Maya existed sometimes. The party was exclusive, the kind where invitations passed through invisible channels that Maya definitely didn't have access to.

"No invite," Maya said, trying to sound casual.

"Same. But watch this." Jenna pulled out her phone, opened Instagram, and started typing. "My cousin's going. She said I can +1. You coming?"

Maya's stomach did that thing—half excitement, half terror. "Seriously?"

"Duh. We'll show up, act like we belong, maybe actually eat something that isn't a health supplement." Jenna grinned. "Unless you want to bring your papaya."

Maya took a bite. Sweet, weirdly tropical, not completely terrible. "Nah. I'm good."

The social pyramid would still be there Monday morning. But for Friday night? They'd figure it out together, somewhere closer to the middle. Or maybe create their own shape entirely. Pyramids were overrated anyway.