Curveballs and Code Names

Maya walked through the hallways like a zombie—seriously, actual zombie. Three AP classes, zero hours of sleep, and approximately 47 energy drinks would do that to a person. She'd earned her zombie status fair and square.

"You look dead," observed Leo, leaning against his locker with that irritatingly effortless vibe.

"Thanks, Leo. Really boosting my confidence for the game today."

"Baseball?" His eyebrows shot up. "You're actually playing?"

"Maybe." Maya adjusted her backpack straps. "If I don't pass out in the dugout first."

Here's the thing about being the new girl at Oak Ridge High: everyone already had their friend groups, their inside jokes, their entire social ecosystem locked down. Maya was just drifting through it like a ghost. Or a zombie. Take your pick.

But fourth period changed everything.

She'd picked the back corner seat for maximum invisibility—classic spy tactics. But when she overheard Jessica and her squad whispering about Maya's crush on Sam (which wasn't even TRUE, okay, she'd just looked at him ONCE during chemistry), she realized something powerful.

Being invisible meant she could spy. And spying meant information. And information at Oak Ridge High was currency.

By lunch, she'd learned that:

- Tyler was planning to ask Emma to prom

- Mrs. Henderson definitely gave pop quizzes on Fridays

- Someone had anonymously submitted Maya's name for the baseball team's open position

Wait, what?

Maya found herself at the tryouts that afternoon, standing in the outfield while her zombie brain screamed WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

Sam stepped up to the plate. He looked over, spotted her, and waved.

"Hey! Zombie Girl! Think you can catch a fly ball?"

"Watch me," she yelled back, and then immediately panicked because she'd never caught a fly ball in her life.

The crack of the bat. The ball soaring through blue sky. Maya's legs moving before her brain could interfere. Dive. Glove extending. THUD.

She caught it.

Sam whooped. The coach whistled. And Maya—tired, overwhelmed, totally lost Maya—felt something spark inside her chest that wasn't caffeine or anxiety.

"Nice catch, Zombie," Sam called, grinning.

"The name's Maya," she shouted back. "And I'm open to better nicknames."

"Deal. But you're still playing baseball with us."

Maybe being a zombie spy wasn't so bad after all. At least now, she wasn't invisible.