The Social Pyramid Scheme

Mia's palms were sweating so much she could barely grip her phone. She stood at the edge of Jessica's backyard, the Friday night lights from the pool making everything glow like some filtered Instagram post she'd never be cool enough to post herself.

"Hey! You made it!" Jessica materialized out of nowhere, wearing an orange bikini that somehow made Mia's Target swimsuit feel even more basic. "Grab a drink, relax. Everyone's been asking about you."

Mia grabbed an orange soda from the cooler, cracking it open too enthusiastically. Fizz hissed everywhere, misting her already-damp arm. Smooth. Truly smooth.

That's when she saw it—Chase Miller, looking unfairly good even with wet hair, standing near the pool's edge with his golden retriever, Buster, who was currently shaking water all over everyone's expensive shoes. People were laughing. Of course they were. Everything was easy for people like them.

Mia hovered near the palm tree that looked fake as hell, scrolling through her phone like she had important texts to answer. She didn't. The social pyramid at Franklin High had clear tiers, and she'd been stuck somewhere in the middle since middle school—too visible to be invisible, too invisible to matter.

"Buster! Stop!" Chase yelled, but the dog was already charging toward her.

Mia braced herself as a wet, furry torpedo plowed into her legs, leaving muddy paw prints all over her favorite denim shorts. Great. Now even his dog was out to humble her.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," Chase was actually jogging over, which made her stomach do that annoying flip thing. "Buster, no! Bad dog!"

But Buster wasn't having it. The traitor rolled over, demanding belly rubs from the one person who absolutely did not want to give them.

"He likes you," Chase said, grinning. And then, because her life was a joke: "You want help with that?"

He meant the orange soda that had somehow spilled down her front during the dog collision. Her white shirt now featured a bright orange stain right across the chest.

"Because that's not embarrassing at all," she muttered, but Chase just laughed—not mean laughter, but actual, genuine laughter. And somehow, five minutes later, she was sitting by the pool with him and the world's most chaotic dog, and he was telling her about how his mom had bought him palm reading book because she thought he needed spiritual guidance, and she was actually laughing too.

The social pyramid didn't disappear that night. But maybe, just maybe, there were trapdoors she'd never noticed before.