Dead on My Feet

Maya's legs burned as she rounded the track for the third time, her breath ragged in the crisp morning air. Running was supposed to be her thing—varsity track star, college scholarship material, the golden girl who had it all together. But lately? She felt like she was just going through the motions, a perfect robot programmed by her parents' expectations.

"You're falling behind, Martinez!" Coach barked from the sidelines. "State finals are in TWO WEEKS."

Maya nodded, wiping sweat from her forehead. Inside her backpack, the orange vitamin bottle rattled—her mom's latest solution to everything. "Just take these, Mija. They'll help with energy, focus, everything." Maya had been popping them like candy, but somehow she still felt hollowed out, a shell of herself moving through each day.

The real Maya didn't emerge until Friday nights, locked in her room with her phone on do-not-disturb, binge-walking through zombie apocalypse marathons. There was something honestly therapeutic about watching characters break down and rebuild themselves in a world gone wrong. No expectations. No perfection. Just survival.

"Hey, track star."

Maya jumped, finding Jay leaning against her locker, headphones around his neck. They'd been lab partners since September, trading memes and occasionally actual work.

"You coming to Leo's party?" Jay asked. "Supposedly his brother scored this ridiculous zombie makeup kit. We're doing full face paint."

Maya hesitated. Parties weren't really her scene—too many people, too many expectations to be Maya the Track Star, Maya the Perfect Student. But something about Jay's easy grin made her consider it.

"I... maybe."

"Cool." Jay's eyes twinkled. "You know, you always look like you're running somewhere, even when you're standing still. Might be nice to just... be dead for a night, right?"

Maya laughed, actually laughed, for what felt like the first time in months. "That's the weirdest pitch I've ever heard."

"Is it working?"

"...yeah. It kinda is."

That Friday, Maya stood in front of Leo's bathroom mirror, her face transformed into rotting flesh and hollow eyes. Her varsity jacket stayed in the closet. The vitamins stayed home. For the first time since she could remember, she wasn't running toward anything or away from anything.

Jay appeared behind her in the reflection, his own face a masterpiece of decay. "Ready, zombie girl?"

Maya studied herself—the creature staring back was tired, yes, but also free. Alive in her deadness. She grinned at her reflection.

"Yeah," she said. "I think I am."