The Spinach Summit

The social pyramid at Northwood High wasn't just a metaphor—it was literally mapped out in the cafeteria seating chart. Apex: varsity athletes and the flawless Instagram squad. Middle: me, Maya, and our friend group. Bottom: the mysterious zone where nobody wanted to land.

I'd been up since 5 AM for track practice, running laps until my legs burned. Coach kept preaching about 'building your pyramid of success' but honestly? I just wanted to sleep. And maybe figure out why Maya had been acting distant lately.

'Spinach again tonight,' I groaned at lunch, sliding my tray next to hers. 'My mom's on this health kick. Like, I appreciate the effort, but I'm pretty sure she just bought three pounds on sale and is panic-cooking her way through it.'

Maya laughed, but her eyes kept darting toward the varsity table where Chloe sat. Something twisted in my stomach. 'Meanwhile, my dad's still fighting with the cable company. Third day without WiFi, and he's out there at 2 AM with a flashlight, checking the connection like he's some kinda telecom detective.'

That was the thing about Maya—she could make anything hilarious. But lately, she'd been disappearing into Chloe's orbit, and their Instagram stories looked like a highlight reel of my former best friend living her best life without me.

After school, I laced up for a solo run, pounding the trail behind the football field. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Maya: 'wanna come over?'

I stared at the message, chest doing that weird fluttery thing. Was she asking out of obligation?

Then: 'spinach emergency. my mom's attempting something called kale chips and it's a disaster. need backup ASAP or I might actually die'

I laughed out loud, dodging a tree root. Maybe the pyramid wasn't so rigid after all. Sometimes you just needed a friend to help you survive the spinach disasters.