Alive at 7:47 AM

The hallway stretched before me like a fluorescent-lit tomb, and I was definitely one of the zombies shuffling through it. Third period Wednesday, and my brain had officially left the building. My thumb moved on autopilot, scrolling through feeds that blurred together in a wash of aesthetic breakfasts and people I didn't actually like.

That's when I saw him—Caleb, leaning against the lockers like this was a music video, not the zone between AP Chem and the bathroom. He held this perfect orange, and I don't know why my brain locked onto it, but suddenly it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Want some?" He'd noticed me staring.

I froze. My iPhone buzzed in my pocket—probably Maya wanting to dissect whatever just happened in English, probably my mom asking if I remembered to pack lunch, probably the entire world demanding my performance.

Instead, I reached out and took the segment he offered. His fingers brushed mine, and it wasn't like the movies. It was better. It was awkward and terrifying and absolutely electric.

The orange burst in my mouth—tart, bright, so overwhelmingly THERE. For the first time all day, I wasn't performing. Wasn't curating. Wasn't dead inside and scrolling to feel something.

"You look like you're about to fall asleep standing up," Caleb said, and there wasn't judgment in it. Just recognition.

"Wednesday mornings will do that to you."

"Every morning, honestly." He peeled another section. "I'm Caleb."

"I know," I said before I could stop myself, and then felt my face catch fire. "I mean—people say your name. In class. Sometimes."

He laughed, and it wasn't mean. It was real.

"What's your name, zombie girl?"

"Maya."

"Nice to officially meet you, Maya." He held out the orange like an offering, like a bridge, like something that mattered. "You want to walk to fourth period together? I promise not to let you walk into any lockers."

I pocketed my phone without checking the notifications. The hallway suddenly felt like something I could navigate awake.

"Yeah," I said. "I'd like that."

And for the first time all week, I wasn't pretending to be somewhere else.