The Social Pyramid Scheme

Maya stared at the invitation on her phone like it might bite. Katrina's party. The actual Katrina, whose instagram stories basically counted as currency at Northwood High. Maya had spent two weeks working up the courage to even look in her direction during AP Bio, and now she was invited. To the party. The party.

'You going?' asked Leo, spinning his chair around to face her desk. His cat, a judgmental calico named Pyramid — don't ask, his sister was going through an ancient Egypt phase — glared from his shoulder like Maya personally offended her.

'Maybe?' Maya winced at how her voice squeaked. 'I mean, I wasn't really planning—'

'Dude.' Leo deadpanned. 'Katrina's basement is the social pyramid's apex. You decline, you basically declare yourself a peasant.'

'Shut up, Leo.' But Maya's stomach did that awful flip thing.

Friday came way too fast. Maya stood outside Katrina's house for seven full minutes, practicing her casual entrance face in the reflection of a parked car. When she finally walked in, the bass hit her like a physical force. Katrina's basement had been transformed: LED strip lights, a fog machine Maya was pretty sure was from Party City, and like, fifty people compressed into a space meant for twelve.

Then she saw it. In the corner, someone's golden retriever — she later learned his name was Cable, honestly, who named these pets? — was wearing a tiny party hat and looking deeply betrayed by life choices. He was trapped in a circle of drunk sophomores trying to get him to dance for TikTok.

Maya did exactly what her social anxiety-brain dictated: she adopted him.

'That's Cable,' Katrina appeared beside her, handing Maya a red solo cup with something definitely not soda. 'He's like, the emotional support dog.'

'The dog needs emotional support?'

'Bro, look at him. He's surrounded by teenagers. I'd need emotional support too.'

Maya laughed, and then they were talking, actually talking, and Katrina was making jokes about her mom's Pinterest board and showing Maya her secretly terrible Minecraft builds, and somehow three hours passed.

Walking home at 2 AM with slightly glittery hair and Cable's number saved in her phone (the dog's Instagram, obviously, run by Katrina — follower count: 12.7K), Maya realized something about social pyramids. They only worked if you believed in them. Sometimes you just had to adopt the emotional support dog and accidentally make friends with the girl at the top.

Her phone buzzed. Katrina: 'same time next week??'

Maya grinned in the dark. Pyramids were overrated anyway. She'd rather hang out with the dog and the girl who named him Cable.