The Vitamin King of Junior Year

Marcus collapsed onto his bedroom floor, limbs splayed like a starfish that'd given up on life. Three hours of AP Chem homework would do that to you. His phone buzzed — another notification from the group chat.

"Bro, you coming to Jake's?" read the message from Tyler.

Marcus stared at the ceiling, feeling like a total zombie. The grind was real, and he was running on fumes and过期 energy drinks.

"Can't," he typed back. "Got that vitamin presentation to finish."

God, he hated saying that. But ever since his cousin got him hooked into Radiant Life — this whole wellness vibe pyramid scheme thing — Marcus had been all in. At first it was just about making some cash for prom. But somewhere along the way, he'd actually started believing the hype. The transformative power of Vitamin D3 + K2. The gut health revolution. The glow-up waiting to happen.

The pyramid diagram on his wall stared back at him. Bottom row: customers. Middle: distributors. Top: the lifestyle earners. Marcus was stuck somewhere near the bottom, but he could practically taste the residual income.

His door creaked open. His mom leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

"Marcus, honey, I heard you on the phone with Mrs. Chen again. Are you still... doing the vitamin thing?"

"It's not 'the vitamin thing,' Mom. It's wellness entrepreneurship."

She sighed. "Your father and I are worried. You've been distant, and—"

"I'm building something, okay?" He sat up, frustration bubbling. "Everyone at school's always talking about side hustles and the grind. I'm actually doing something."

The social pyramid at Lincoln High had always been crystal clear. At the apex: the athletes and TikTok famous kids. Then the drama crowd. Somewhere in the middle: the normal people trying to survive. And at the bottom? The kids who got sucked into stuff like this.

But something clicked in Marcus's brain. What if he wasn't climbing the wrong pyramid? What if the real glow-up wasn't about becoming someone else, but about figuring out who he actually was underneath all the performative hustle?

"You know what," Marcus said, "can we talk later? Like, actually talk?"

His mom's expression softened. "Of course, sweetheart."

Marcus grabbed his phone and texted Tyler: "Actually yeah. Be there in 10."

Some zombies don't need supplements. They just need to wake up.