The Summer We Almost Got Rich

The humidity in my room was thick enough to chew on. I stared at my laptop, watching another livestream of someone my age making six figures dropshipping.

"Bro, you in?" Amir's voice crackled through my Discord headset. "This is literally our shot."

The pyramid scheme had started innocently enough - some "exclusive" energy drink MLM that promised financial freedom and a Mustang. All the cool kids were doing it, or at least the ones who sat at the good lunch table.

"I don't know, man. My mom said-"

"Exactly. She wants you to stay broke. Think about it - we get five people, they get five people, we're swimming in cash by senior year."

I looked at my prize wall. One sad **goldfish** named Toast who'd survived three grade levels and my complete inability to keep living things alive. Toast stared back with his perpetual O-mouth, like he knew something I didn't.

"Let me think about it."

That Friday, Amir talked me into the "recruitment mixer" at Tyler's house. Tyler's dad was a lawyer or something, which meant their basement had a actual home theater and a fridge full of drinks that weren't store brand.

I showed up wearing my nicest hoodie, sweating through it immediately. The room smelled like expensive cologne and desperation.

"YO, it's the man himself!" Tyler materialized, already two drinks deep. "You ready to secure the bag, or what?"

His eyes landed on someone behind me. The air shifted.

Maya Lin walked in, and suddenly my heart was doing that thing where it forgets how to heart. She had on this oversized band tee and somehow made it look intentional. Not like how I wore them, which was just。

"What's up," she said, sliding onto the couch beside me.

"Nothing much. Just. You know. Business."

"You selling those energy drinks too?" She raised an eyebrow. "My brother did that freshman year. Lost three hundred bucks and gained twenty pounds."

"Oh. Really."

"Yeah. But hey, the pyramid structure's fascinating from a mathematical perspective. It collapses exponentially. Pretty metal, actually."

She smiled, and I felt like I'd been bear-hugged by actual sunshine.

Then everything went dark.

"WHAT THE -" Tyler yelled.

"The power!" someone shrieked.

"Probably the storm," Maya said calmly. "We should check the circuit breaker."

"No, no, NO," Tyler was panicking. "I can't lose this sale. Bro, your car has jumper **cables**, right?"

"I don't have a car."

"Okay, NEW PLAN. Everyone with working flashlights, we're doing this old school. Marcus, since you're not officially signed up yet, can you run to my garage and grab the emergency generator? It's super light, I swear."

Ten minutes later, I'm dragging what feels like a literal dead **bear** through mud in the dark, my Conchs absolutely ruined, questioning every life choice that led here. Thunder cracked. Rain poured.

The generator didn't work.

We ended up sitting on Tyler's back porch in our socks, eating cold pizza by flashlight as the storm raged. The MLM presentation had been thoroughly derailed.

"So," Maya said, stealing a pepperoni from my slice. "You gonna join their cult or what?"

"I'm thinking... no."

"Good choice." She bumped my shoulder with hers. "Hey, you want to come to my band's show next weekend? We're playing at that dive bar downtown."

"Yeah. Definitely."

"Cool. You can bring Toast if you want. We need a mascot."

I laughed. "How do you know about Toast?"

"Everyone knows about Toast. He's legendary." She paused. "I like that you kept him alive this long. Shows you can commit to stuff."

"It's mostly luck. And flakes."

"Whatever works."

The rain stopped. Someone's phone found a signal.

"YO," Amir shouted from inside. "WiFi's back! The presentation's back on!"

Maya looked at me. I looked at the house, then at her, then at my ruined shoes.

"Actually," I called back. "I think I'm gonna head home. I've got, uh, fish things to do."

"You sure? This is literally financial freedom-"

"Yeah. I'm good."

Maya walked me to my bike.

"See you next weekend, then?"

"Yeah. See you."

I rode home in the damp summer air, shoes squelching with every pedal, thinking about how some things collapse under their own weight, and others build slowly, quietly, into something that actually lasts.

Toast was still swimming when I got home, doing his laps like nothing had changed.

"Almost got rich tonight, buddy," I told him, dropping a pinch of food into his bowl. "But I think I found something better."