The Pyramid Scheme

Maya's lungs burned as she rounded the track, her Nikes slapping against the rubber. Six more laps. Coach benson called it endurance training; she called it socially acceptable masochism. At least running gave her an excuse to avoid the cafeteria hierarchy.

The school's social pyramid worked like this: at the apex, the athletes and Instagram royalty; in the middle, the normal people who actually learned stuff; at the bottom, everyone else scrambling for relevance. Her former best friend Chloe had ascended mid-September, trading their Friday night video game marathons for parties with people who wore too much cologne.

"Maya!" Chloe waved from the bleachers, surrounded by the pyramid's upper crust. "Come sit!"

She hesitated. Three weeks of ghosted texts and awkward hallway passes screamed this was a trap. But her mom kept asking why she never hung out with "that nice Chloe girl" anymore.

Maya jogged over, sweat gluing her bangs to her forehead. Someone's orange soda sat precariously close to her backpack.

"We were just talking about the winter formal," Chloe said, too bright. "You should come with us."

The group exchanged glances. Maya's stomach did that thing it did when she realized too late that the homework she thought was due Friday was actually due today.

"Actually," a guy named Kyle drawled, "we were thinking you could help with... logistics. Since you're, like, good with planning stuff."

Translation: they wanted her to do their work while they took credit. Again.

Behind the bleachers, a calico cat meowed, weaving through the fence. It looked at Maya with yellow eyes that seemed to say: you're not falling for this, right?

The truth hit her with the clarity of post-run endorphins. Chloe wasn't climbing some pyramid to success—she was building one, using people as stepping stones. This wasn't friendship; it was a pyramid scheme, and Maya wasn't buying in.

"Actually," Maya said, grabbing her backpack, "I've got plans."

"What plans?"

She gestured vaguely toward the parking lot. "Important stuff. Can't talk. Busy."

Behind the bleachers, she found the cat again and shared her clementine. The cat purred like a tiny engine.

"You and me," Maya told it, peeling another section. "We're building our own pyramid. No applications required."

Her phone buzzed. Chloe: "wait are you mad??"

Maya didn't respond. Some climbs were worth taking alone.