The Pyramid Scheme of Us

Maya stared at her cracked iPhone screen, thumb hovering over Leo's story. He'd posted a picture of the sunset—the same sunset they'd watched together two weeks ago, before everything got weird. Back then, she'd thought they were climbing toward something real. Now she knew better: Leo was at the top of the social pyramid, and she was just another sophomore trying not to slip down the sides.

"You're doing it again," said Jordan, sliding onto the bench beside her. "The thing where you spiral into an existential crisis because Leo Miller liked your post but didn't DM you back."

"I'm not spiraling," Maya lied, locking her phone. "I'm conducting research on the nature of human deception."

Jordan snorted. "Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, bestie."

The truth was, Maya had been doing a lot of running lately. Running from her feelings, running toward the track team (because at least when she was actually running, she didn't have to think), and running away from conversations that might actually matter. Coach said she had potential. Potential for what, she wasn't sure.

Then came the day Leo actually showed up to her track meet—not with his crowd, not with that effortless pyramid of popular kids that orbited him like satellites, but alone. He sat in the bleachers, phone in hand, watching her race.

Maya finished third, lungs burning, legs heavy. When she looked up, Leo was gone.

Later, her iPhone buzzed. A notification from Leo: my pyramid is a prison. meet me at the track? tonight?

Jordan raised an eyebrow when Maya grabbed her jacket. "Careful. Sometimes when you stop running from things, you actually have to deal with them."

"I know," Maya said. "But I think I'm ready to stop running."