Cafeteria Zombie Protocol

Maya's first week at Northwood High felt like navigating a minefield, except the mines were judgmental stares and the explosion was social suicide. The cafeteria operated on a strict hierarchy, and as a freshman, she ranked somewhere between the mystery meat and the floor stains.

"Just act natural," she whispered to herself, gripping her tray like a shield. But natural was impossible when your stomach was staging a full-blown rebellion. The lunch lady had plopped a gelatinous mound of spinach onto her plate that looked suspiciously like it had already been eaten once.

"Yo, Maya!" Marcus waved from the jock table, and her heart did that annoying flutter thing. She'd been crushing on him since orientation, when he'd helped her pick up her dropped binder and called her "cool" instead of "clumsy." Progress.

She took a step forward, disaster waiting to happen. The floor was wet—someone had spilled water near the condiment station. Her sneaker skidded. Time slowed to a crawl. The tray tipped. The spinach launched.

It landed. On Marcus's pristine white jersey. Right on the chest.

The entire cafeteria went silent. Three hundred faces turned toward her like zombies in an apocalypse movie, unified in their hunger for drama. Maya's face burned hotter than a thousand suns. This was it. The end of her social life before it had even begun.

"Damn," Marcus said, looking down at the green stain spreading across his shirt like a Rorschach test for losers.

"I'm so sorry!" Maya practically shouted, grabbing napkins from the nearest table. "I'll pay for the cleaning! I have money! Not a lot, but—"

Marcus started laughing. Not mean laughter, but actual amusement. "Maya, chill. It's just spinach. It's not like you stabbed me with a carrot."

Someone tossed her an orange from across the room. "For the vitamin C deficiency you're about to develop from all this stress!"

Marcus caught it one-handed. "Nice catch," he said, then to Maya: "Sit with us. Unless you're planning to assault anyone else with vegetables."

Maya slid into the seat next to him, her face still flaming but maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be the worst day of her life. The cafeteria's social pyramid suddenly seemed a little less impossible to climb.

"Next time," Marcus whispered, "aim for someone who actually deserves it. Like Tyler."

Maya grinned. "Deal."