The Pyramid Scheme in My Garage

The garage was stacked floor-to-ceiling with boxes of Vitalize-X—this ridiculous vitamin supplement my sister somehow got roped into selling. Mom called it a pyramid scheme, Maya called it her side hustle. I called it a literal pyramid, because she'd arranged the boxes in this perfect triangular structure against the back wall, like some weird health-obsessed monument to desperation.

I was supposed to be at basketball tryouts, but instead I was here, hiding behind the vitamin pyramid, spying on my sister through the cracked garage door. Maya was on the driveway with Tyler—the same Tyler who'd spent the last three years making my life miserable. The same Tyler whose locker I'd been accidentally-kinda-on-purpose walking past every morning since seventh grade, hoping he'd finally notice me.

Now he was noticing my sister. Laughing at her jokes. Touching her arm.

My phone buzzed. Jasper: where r u?? coach is gonna kill u

I couldn't move. I was frozen behind this fortress of overpriced supplements, watching my bully flirt with my sister while my social life collapsed around me like a poorly constructed house of cards.

Tyler handed Maya a wad of cash. She counted it, grinning, then handed him a box of vitamins. They were selling this stuff together. This whole time, I'd thought Tyler was just being a jerk because he was homophobic. Turns out he was being a jerk because he was my sister's business partner.

The cable that connected the garage light flickered, threatening to plunge me into darkness at the absolute worst moment. I held my breath.

"You're not gonna tell Leo, right?" Tyler asked.

"Tell him what?" Maya laughed. "That his former bully is now basically my employee? That would be hilarious, actually."

"Employee? Please. I'm your top distributor."

They high-fived. Actual high-five. My bully and my sister, co-conspirators in a multilevel marketing empire built on vitamins and bull.

I crept back toward the house, my heart hammering against my ribs. The pyramid of boxes loomed behind me like a monument to every absurd thing about being fifteen—about how everyone's hiding something, about how the person who makes your life miserable might just be the person your sister's secretly running a business with, about how nothing is ever what it looks like.

I slipped inside, leaving the garage door cracked just enough. Let them have their vitamin empire. Let them have their secrets. I'd deal with tryouts tomorrow. Today, I'd discovered something better than making the team: I had blackmail material that could last until graduation.