The Pyramid Scheme of Eighth Grade

The social pyramid at Lincoln Middle School had been established way before I showed up freshman year. At the top? Derek McAllister—varsity baseball captain, owner of a pickup truck his dad definitely bought him, and the biggest bull I'd ever encountered. Not literally, obviously. But dude charged through hallways like he owned them, expectations practically vibrating off his Letterman jacket.

"Hey, Mitchell." He shoulder-checked me by the water fountains. "Try not to embarrass yourself at tryouts today."

I'd played baseball since I was seven, but suddenly I was sweating through my jersey. The social pyramid wasn't supposed to matter anymore—we were literally in high school—but somehow it still did.

At tryouts, Coach Martinez lined us up for batting practice. I stepped up, dug my cleats into the dirt, and watched the first pitch sail past.

"That's bull!" someone yelled from the sidelines. Definitely Derek.

I hit the next one straight into the chain-link fence. Then I kept hitting. Grounders, pop flies, line drives into the outfield. My palms stopped sweating. This was just baseball—the one thing that made sense.

"Not bad," Derek said afterward, actually looking at me for once. "You're on the roster."

By Friday, I'd somehow climbed three tiers of the pyramid. Maya—the junior I'd had a crush on since August—actually smiled at me in the hallway. But then came the team initiation.

"We're doing the water tower thing," Derek announced after practice. "Tradition."

The old water tower loomed behind the school—rusty, definitely off-limits, exactly the kind of stupid thing that seemed legendary at sixteen. We climbed, legs shaking, until the whole town stretched out below us like a sparkler display.

"Your turn," someone said, pushing me toward the edge.

"What?"

"Sign it. Everyone does."

I looked down at my Sharpie, then at the rusted metal, then at Derek laughing with his friends. The social pyramid suddenly felt ridiculous—a bunch of terrified kids pretending to be brave.

"Actually," I said, turning back. "I think I'm good."

"What? You scared?"

"Nah." I started climbing down. "Just not into doing stuff just because everyone else is."

Maya was waiting by the bleachers when I got back.

"You know," she said, falling into step beside me, "that was honestly pretty cool."

So maybe I hadn't climbed to the top of the pyramid. Maybe I'd built my own thing entirely. Either way, I finally felt like I was playing my own game.