The Social Pyramid Scheme

My sister Jordan had graduated with honors, conquered the social pyramid, and basically invented the art of being effortlessly cool. Now she was back from college for the weekend, holding court at my parents' kitchen island like some mystical sphinx dispensing wisdom to us mere mortals.

"Listen, Maya," she said, chomping on an orange slice with zero concern for the juice dripping everywhere. "The trick to surviving freshman year isn't about climbing to the top. It's about realizing the whole pyramid is made of, like, existential dread and people trying too hard."

Easy for her to say. She was the girl who'd somehow convinced everyone that her pyramid scheme selling vitamin supplements sophomore year was actually a "wellness entrepreneurship project." Meanwhile, I was currently vibrating with anxiety about the back-to-school party tonight.

Barnaby, our ancient golden retriever, nudged my hand with his wet nose, sensing my impending meltdown. He was the only one who understood that sometimes you needed to lay on the floor and process your emotions.

"What if I literally die?" I asked. "What if someone says 'who let you out of your emo phase' and I freeze up and everyone laughs?"

Jordan swallowed her orange. "First off, nobody talks like that except villains in bad teen movies. Second, you're not gonna die. You're gonna show up, wear that outfit you've been overthinking for three days, and be fine. Or you'll be awkward and survive anyway. Both are valid paths."

She tossed me a bottle of vitamins from her bag. "Take this. It's not gonna fix your life, but at least you won't get scurvy while you're busy having your character development arc."

I stared at the neon bottle. "You know these aren't gonna help with social anxiety, right?"

"Maya, I literally have a bachelor's degree in psychology and I still take gummy vitamins because they make me feel like I have my life together. Sometimes you just gotta fake it till you make it."

Barnaby let out a dramatic sigh, flopping onto my feet.

"See? Even the dog knows you're overthinking this." Jordan hopped off the stool. "Now come on. We're gonna do your makeup, listen to unhinged pop music, and I'm gonna tell you about all the embarrassing stuff I did at your age so you feel better about whatever happens tonight."

Maybe she was right. Maybe the social pyramid was just a bunch of us weirdos pretending we knew what we were doing. And if Jordan—the girl who once tried to sell vitamin supplements to our gym teacher—could turn out okay, maybe I would too.