The Pyramid Scheme of Us

Jordan's texts lit up my screen at 2 AM. *Bro, you in?*

I should've known better. Jordan was the guy who once convinced half the sophomore class that mixing Gatorade with Mountain Dew created a 'focus potion.' That lasted until someone vomited in third period chemistry.

But I was tired of being invisible. Tired of watching from the bleachers while the varsity jacket crew ruled the school like they owned the place. High school's basically a pyramid, right? And I was stuck at the bottom with everyone else who hadn't figured out the cheat codes yet.

*What is it?* I typed back.

*Dog walking business. But, like, tiered. You get other people to walk dogs, you take a cut. They get people, you take a cut. It's infinite money, bro. It's literally how the universe works.*

The next morning, I found myself standing in Mrs. Henderson's yard while her golden retriever—Buster, ancient and possibly part wolf—decided whether today was the day he'd finally drag me into traffic.

'That's a good boy,' I lied. Buster had been staring at a squirrel for seven minutes. My arms were going numb.

'He likes you,' Mrs. Henderson called from her porch. 'He usually tries to run off with everyone else.'

Something about that felt unexpectedly good. Buster, the dog who hated everyone, deciding I was worth his time. Meanwhile, my phone was blowing up with texts from Jordan about 'recruiting' freshmen into our 'multi-tiered canine services network.'

That afternoon, I sat with Jordan in the cafeteria while he drew circles and arrows on a napkin, explaining how we'd eventually have dog walkers in three counties and basically be kings of the entire tri-state area.

'Dude,' I said. 'This is literally a pyramid scheme.'

'It's not a pyramid scheme,' Jordan said, with the absolute confidence of someone who was about to lose everyone's money. 'It's a—I forget the word. But it's legal.'

'It's a pyramid scheme,' I said again. 'You're literally calling it that.'

Buster, who'd somehow followed me to school because apparently he was my dog now, chose that exact moment to shake himself vigorously, spraying muddy water all over Jordan's diagram.

'Man, whatever,' Jordan said, wiping off his napkin. 'Your loss. I already got Tyler and Sophia to put in fifty bucks each for the branding materials.'

Something tightened in my chest. Tyler and Sophia were barely making rent working at the gas station. They were doing this because they trusted Jordan. They trusted me too.

'That's bull, Jordan,' I said. 'You're taking their money.'

'So what? Everyone takes from everyone. That's how it works.' Jordan looked at me like I was the one who didn't understand anything. 'You gonna tell on me? Be a narc?'

I looked at Buster, who was now happily eating someone's dropped sandwich wrapper off the floor. Maybe I was stuck at the bottom of the pyramid. Maybe nobody knew my name outside a few classes. Maybe Jordan was right about everything being a hustle.

But I stood up anyway.

'I'm getting Tyler and Sophia's money back,' I said. 'And then you and I are done.'

Jordan laughed, but it was nervous. 'Whatever, man. You're just scared you'll never get to the top.'

'Maybe,' I said. 'But at least I'll know how I got there.'

Buster followed me home. We walked past the high school, with its brick facade and invisible tiers, the whole pyramid looming against the sky. For the first time, it didn't feel like something I needed to climb. It felt like something I could just—walk past.

I texted Tyler and Sophia. Then my mom. Then I sat on my front porch with a dog I hadn't planned on keeping, watching the sun go down, thinking about how some things in life you choose. And some things choose you.

Buster rested his head on my knee.

Yeah. I could work with that.