The Vitamin C Conspiracy

The pyramid of orange **vitamin** C supplements sat on Marcus's desk like a miniature monument to his mother's anxiety. "You're not getting sick before playoffs," she'd said, slamming the bottle down.

Marcus grabbed his **baseball** glove from the corner, his fingers tracing the worn leather. Junior year hadn't gone according to plan. His batting average was trash, his girlfriend had ghosted him after homecoming (still trying to figure out what that even meant), and now his mom had him on a supplement regimen that made him feel like a chemistry experiment.

"Yo, Marcus!" Riley called from downstairs. His best friend had appeared earlier with his **dog**, Buster—a chaotic golden retriever who'd already knocked over three things in the house. "We're gonna be late for practice!"

Practice was a disaster. Coach Miller benched him after he struck out three times. "Your head's not in the game, son."

Afterward, Marcus sat on the bleachers alone, watching the sunset paint the sky in bruised oranges and purples. That's when Jenna sat beside him. Jenna, who'd been his lab partner since freshman year. Jenna, who quietly knew everything about everyone but never spilled.

"You look like you're **bearing** the weight of the world," she said, smirking.

Marcus laughed despite himself. "More like the weight of my mom's expectations. And this stupid vitamin pyramid. And... everything."

"Wanna know what I think?" Jenna said. "We're all just building these pyramids of expectations—school, sports, parents, social media. We think we need to reach the top, but maybe we're supposed to knock them over sometimes."

Buster chose that moment to streak across the field, something orange in his mouth. Marcus's vitamin bottle.

"BUSTER!" Riley yelled, chasing after him.

Marcus watched his friend, the dog, the chaos unfolding. For the first time in months, something in his chest loosened. Maybe that was the point. Maybe you didn't climb the pyramid. You knocked it over, chased the dog, and figured out the rest later.

"Race you," Marcus said, grabbing his glove.

Jenna grinned. "You're on, loser."

The pyramid of vitamins could wait. So could the batting average. Some moments, you just had to run.