Three Texts Above the Pyramid

The social pyramid at Northwood High was brutal, and Maya knew exactly where she sat: three tiers from the bottom, right behind the kids who brought oranges to lunch and ate them with actual knives.

"You're staring again," Jamal whispered, nudging her with his elbow. "That's borderline spy behavior, Maya."

Maya's face burned as she quickly looked away from the courtyard. So what if she'd been watching Marcus? The senior who somehow made carrying a beat-up skateboard look like philosophy. It wasn't like she was creeping through his bushes. She just happened to know his schedule, his favorite hoodie (gray, paint-stained), and that he spent every Thursday afternoon in the library's back corner.

"I'm not spying," she hissed. "I'm gathering intelligence. There's a difference."

"Whatever you say, Agent Maya." Jamal checked his iPhone, grimacing. "Crap. Practice ran late. I gotta bounce."

Maya nodded, barely listening. Her stomach did that stupid flip-flop thing as Marcus walked past their table, orange soda in hand. Their eyes caught for exactly three seconds—she counted—before he kept walking.

Three seconds. It was progress.

Her phone buzzed.

unknown: hey

Maya's heart slammed against her ribs. No way.

unknown: this is marcus. from the library?

She practically dropped her phone. Marcus? THE Marcus? Her fingers hovered over the screen, her brain suddenly empty of every cool thing she'd ever thought to say to him.

maya: oh hey!! yeah i remember

A lie. She absolutely did not remember ever speaking to him. But if he thought she did, she wasn't about to correct him.

marcus: cool. listen, don't think i'm weird but i noticed you always sitting near me and i was wondering

Maya stopped breathing. He'd NOTICED? The pyramid suddenly felt less like a wall and more like—well, she didn't know what. But something different.

marcus: if you'd want to help me with this english assignment? i'm drowning in mrs. chen's class and you seem smart

Maya blinked. Smart. He thought she was smart.

"You good?" Jamal asked, back from the bathroom. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Marcus's next message came through: you can say no if you want btw

"I'm good," Maya said, and she was. She typed back: i'd love to. meet at the library tomorrow?

As Marcus replied with a smiley face, Maya realized something important: she'd spent all semester trapped in the pyramid's lower levels, obsessing over the tiers above, when she could've just—climbed. Or asked for directions. Or let someone notice her back.

"Spill," Jamal said, dropping into his seat. "You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you've got a story."

Maya smiled, watching Marcus across the courtyard. "Let's just say," she said, "I think I'm about to level up."