The Summer I Served Myself

The country club's social pyramid was as rigid as the Egyptian ones we studied in World History, except instead of pharaohs you had exchange students whose parents owned actual islands. I stood at the bottom holding a padel racket like it was radioactive.

"You're holding it wrong," Sofia said, barely looking up from her phone. Her wrists were stacked with enough gold jewelry to fund a small nation. "Padel's about finesse, not force."

I adjusted my grip, sweat dripping down my back. My mom had pulled strings to get me this summer job as a junior instructor, which was basically code for "human ball-fetcher for rich kids." The worst part wasn't the work — it was that Sofia, the queen of the padel courts, was actually kind of right about everything.

The club's juice bar served this fresh papaya smoothie that cost seventeen dollars. I'd been staring at the menu for three weeks, calculating how many hours of ball-fetching equaled one drink. Today, I finally caved.

"First time?" The guy at the counter smiled. He looked about my age, wearing a staff polo that was actually ironed. "I'm Mateo."

"Maya," I managed, feeling suddenly ridiculous for being so nervous about ordering a smoothie.

"Try it with extra lime," he said, sliding it across the counter. "My abuela says papaya's an acquired taste, but honestly, I think people just need to stop overthinking it."

Something about the way he said it — like maybe he wasn't just talking about fruit.

Later that afternoon, Sofia and her friends were laughing by court three when someone sliced a ball way out of bounds. It landed near my feet. Without thinking, I picked up my racket and served it back perfectly.

Sofia looked up, actually looked at me for the first time all summer. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Mateo appeared from behind the equipment shed, holding his own racket. "Maya's been practicing since 6 AM every day this week. She's probably better than half your pyramid squad."

Sofia's friends went silent.

"Challenge match?" Mateo raised an eyebrow at me.

I nodded, suddenly aware that everyone was watching. The papaya smoothie sat on the bench beside me, condensation dripping down the cup like I'd been nervous about nothing all summer.

"Bring it," I said.

And just like that, I realized something about pyramids: they're built from the bottom up. But they're also pretty fun to knock over.