The Pyramid Scheme of Fourteenth Period

Marcus stared at the social pyramid diagram Mrs. Chen had drawn on the whiteboard. "Understanding societal hierarchies," she'd called it. Marcus called it fourth period social suicide.

"You gonna try out for baseball again?" Jamal whispered from the next desk over, spinning a vitamin D supplement between his fingers like it was a lucky baseball. "Coach said varsity needs a catcher."

Marcus shrugged, trying to look casual while his stomach did gymnastics. Last year's attempt had been legendary — he'd taken three pitches to the helmet before they'd gently suggested he stick with the marching band, where his sole responsibility had been carrying a flag and trying not to trip over his own feet.

"Maybe," Marcus whispered back. "My cousin says if I take these vitamins every day, I'll get huge by spring tryouts."

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Those are gummy multivitamins shaped like dinosaurs, bro."

"They're ancient AND powerful," Marcus insisted, though he couldn't meet Jamal's eyes.

The truth was, Marcus didn't care about baseball. He cared about Maya Chen, who sat three rows up, third from the left, in the section Mrs. Chen had labeled "student leadership tier" on her little pyramid diagram. Maya had mentioned once that she liked baseball players, and suddenly Marcus had developed what he assumed was a deep, spiritual calling to the sport.

The vitamin scheme had been his older sister's idea. "Just tell people you're training," she'd said, rolling her eyes so hard Marcus worried they'd get stuck. "Girls love a guy with goals."

"That's terrible advice," he'd said.

"I'm literally on the volleyball team, Marcus. I know these things."

So here he was, sneaking dinosaur vitamins and planning to humiliate himself again for a crush who thought he was already weird because he'd once accidentally sent her a voice message of him practicing his "cool voice" for two minutes before realizing he'd never pressed send.

But maybe — just maybe — this time would be different. Maybe he wouldn't get hit in the head. Maybe Maya would notice him. Maybe the social pyramid wasn't so rigid after all.

"Bro, your vitamin just rolled under my desk," Jamal whispered, cracking up.

Marcus sighed, abandoning his dignity to retrieve a neon orange stegosaurus from the dusty floor. Some things, he realized, were worse than striking out.