The Social Pyramid Scheme

My hair looked like a bird had nested in it after three hours of baseball practice. Coach Miller had us running until our legs felt like Jell-O, and I was running on two hours of sleep and caffeine.

"You look like a zombie," said Lena, leaning against the dugout fence. Her perfectly curled hair bounced as she laughed. I felt my face burn.

I'd joined the baseball team because I thought it would fix everything. Freshman year, and I was still figuring out who I was. The team seemed like a fast track to the top of the school's social pyramid—varsity jackets, pep rallies, actually getting invited to parties.

Instead, I was stuck riding the pine while the seniors started. My batting average was .167, which wasn't exactly striking fear into anyone's heart.

"Coach wants you," Lena said, nodding toward the office. "Something about extra hitting practice?"

I dragged myself over, my cleats clicking against the concrete. Coach was watching old game film on his laptop.

"Kid, you're overthinking it," he said, not looking up. "Baseball's simple. See ball, hit ball. You're trying to be a hero when you just need to be present."

I stared at the dirt. "I thought making varsity would... I don't know. Make everything better."

Coach finally looked up. His eyes crinkled. "Let me tell you something about pyramids. The stuff at the top? It's always wobbling. The base—that's where the strength is. You think being a senior means you've got it figured out? They're just as scared as you are. They're just better at hiding it."

Something clicked. I'd been so focused on climbing to the top that I'd forgotten how to just play.

That afternoon, I stopped trying to hit home runs. I just hit the ball. Line drives to the opposite field. Simple. Clean.

Lena was waiting by the fence again. "Nice practice," she said. "You actually looked like you were having fun."

I laughed. "Yeah. I guess I finally figured it out."

My hair was still a mess. I was still exhausted. The social pyramid was still exactly as ridiculous as it had been yesterday. But for the first time all season, I didn't feel like such a zombie anymore.

"Want to grab food?" Lena asked.

"Sure," I said. "But I'm warning you—after that practice, I might actually eat like one."