Battery Life and Broken Bats

Maya's iphone buzzed in her pocket for the third time in five minutes. Another Instagram notification. Another distraction from the fact that she was currently leaning against the chain-link fence at Riverside Park, watching Tyler—the absolute cutest sophomore in her AP Bio class—swing a baseball bat like his life depended on it.

"You okay?" Her best friend Chloe appeared beside her, holding two slushies. "You look like a zombie. No offense."

"I'm fine," Maya lied, smoothing her oversized hoodie. "Just... socially awkward energy."

"Tyler's been looking over here, though." Chloe grinned. "Like, actually noticing you. That's progress from last week when you basically hissed at him in the hallway."

Maya groaned. "I panicked! He was wearing that vintage baseball tee and my brain short-circuited."

Her phone buzzed again. 12%. The red battery warning mocked her. Of course. Of all days for her charger to die at home.

"He's coming over," Chloe hissed, suddenly finding the dirt fascinating. "Maya. He's walking over here. Play it cool. Do not look like a zombie who hasn't slept since finals week."

Too late. Tyler approached, baseball cleats crunching on gravel, his helmet under his arm like he'd just finished an at-bat. "Hey. You're Maya, right? From AP Bio?"

Her brain went blank. All those practiced moments—gone. "Yeah. Hi. Your baseball... game. It's good. You're good. At it."

Kill me now.

But Tyler laughed. Not mean laughing. Actually laughing. "Thanks. I saw you watching. You're in Mr. Henderson's class too, right?"

They talked. Actually talked. About bio, about how baseball practice was killing his GPA, about how he'd once hit a ball so far it shattered a science lab window (maybe). Her phone died completely, sliding into darkness, and she didn't even care.

"So," he said, adjusting his cap. "You coming to next week's game? We're against Central. Should be intense."

"Definitely," she said, and meant it. "I'll be there. Not zombie-like, I promise."

"Good." He smiled, backing toward his teammates. "Because I might need someone to explain mitosis again before the test."

Maya watched him go, phone forgotten in her pocket. Some zombies didn't want brains—they just wanted somebody to notice they were alive, too.