Zombie Baseball Summer

I stumbled into third period feeling like a straight-up zombie. Three hours of baseball practice followed by two hours of my cousin's 'life-changing' business opportunity will do that to you.

'Marcus, you look like death,' Jasmine said, sliding into the desk beside me. 'Another late night with your pyramid scheme?'

'It's NOT a pyramid scheme,' I protested, though honestly? The structure looked suspiciously like one. 'It's multi-level marketing. There's a difference.'

She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. 'Bro, that's literally what they say in the documentaries.'

The truth was, I was desperate. Baseball season was ending, and college scouts weren't exactly blowing up my phone. My cousin Tyrell swore this supplement company was my ticket to financial freedom. Instead, it was just me, awkwardly DMing random people on Instagram about 'essential wellness protocols' while my teammates lived their best lives at the beach.

That night's meeting was in some hotel conference room that smelled like stale coffee and broken dreams. I stood there in my baseball jersey, watching Tyrell draw circles on a whiteboard, explaining how I'd be 'balling' within six months.

'You just gotta find three people,' he said, eyes way too intense. 'Then they find three people. It's exponential growth, Marcus!'

Something in my brain finally clicked. Or maybe I was just hallucinating from sleep deprivation. 'Wait,' I said. 'So I make money by recruiting people who recruit people? That sounds...'

'Like a pyramid scheme?' supplied some random guy in the back.

Tyrell's face fell. The room went silent.

I walked out into the cool night air, pulled out my phone, and texted Jasmine: 'You were right. I'm done.'

'Finally,' she replied instantly. 'Now get some sleep, zombie. Practice tomorrow.'

For the first time all summer, I didn't feel dead inside. Maybe I wasn't gonna be rich by seventeen, but at least I wasn't that guy—the one pressuring his friends into buying protein powder they didn't need. Sometimes the smartest move is knowing when to walk away.