The Vitamin Pyramid Protocol

Maya's phone buzzed with the group chat notification: **POOL PARTY SATURDAY.** Her stomach did that familiar flip-flop thing, like she'd swallowed a handful of butterflies instead of the **vitamin** gummies her mom kept pushing on her.

"You need them for your skin," her mom had said that morning, handing her the orange bottle. Meanwhile, Maya had spent forty minutes perfecting her eyeliner, trying to look like the girls in her TikTok feed—effortless, glowing, unbothered.

She grabbed her beat-up **hat** from the floorboard of her best friend Jade's car. It was a beige bucket hat she'd found at Goodwill, thinking it made her look artsy. Now she wasn't so sure.

"You're overthinking it," Jade said, merging onto the freeway. "Just be yourself."

Easy for Jade to say. Jade was the kind of pretty that didn't require effort. Maya had to work for it.

The party was at Tyler's house. Tyler, who sat behind her in bio and always smelled like sandalwood and confidence. Tyler, whose Instagram stories made Maya's heart do actual gymnastics.

But then came the disaster. The HDMI **cable** connecting Tyler's speaker system had gone rogue, and somehow Maya—carrying her phone, her bag, and trying to look chill—tripped over it. In slow motion, she watched her phone launch from her hands like a projectile, straight into the deep end.

"My phone!" she shrieked, diving after it.

Silence. Then laughter. Not mean laughter—everyone was cracking up, including Tyler.

"Dude," Tyler said, pulling a soaking wet Maya from the pool. "That was legendary."

She retrieved her phone (dead, obviously) and spent the rest of the party in the sun, her hair frizzy, her makeup gone, her hat waterlogged and ridiculous. And weirdly, it was fine. Better than fine.

Later, they gathered around Tyler's cousin's presentation about his new business venture—something about selling skincare through a multi-level **pyramid** structure.

"Is this a scam?" Maya whispered.

"100%," Tyler whispered back, grinning.

They spent the rest of the afternoon making fun of it, sitting close on the patio furniture. Maya forgot about her wet hair, her dead phone, her careful curation of the perfect version of herself.

"You should come over next weekend," Tyler said as the sun went down. "We could watch movies. I promise not to let you destroy any electronics."

Maya smiled, feeling something warm bloom in her chest that had nothing to do with the sun.

"Deal."