Dead on the Court

I felt like a zombie walking into first period, my brain still stuck in that weird dream state where you're running but your legs won't move. Three hours of sleep will do that to you. Blame the TikTok hole, honestly.

"You look rough," Mia said, sliding into the desk next to me. "Rougher than usual."

"Thanks, bestie," I muttered, faceplanting onto my arms. "Remind me why I agreed to this weekend's padel tournament again?"

"Because Jordan's gonna be there, and you've been lowkey obsessed with them since seventh grade." She raised an eyebrow. "Also, we need to crush Tyler's team. His ego needs taking down several notches."

Right. Jordan. The human equivalent of a golden retriever in human form. And Tyler, whose main personality trait was being annoyingly good at everything.

The problem? I'd never actually played padel before. Like, ever. But somehow, I'd ended up signed up for the tournament, my social anxiety screaming while my mouth said "sure, sounds fun!"

Friday afternoon found me at the community center, staring at a padel racket like it was an alien artifact. The court was smaller than a tennis court, surrounded by glass walls, and suddenly I understood why everyone kept calling it "tennis but make it chaotic."

"You okay?" Jordan appeared behind me, holding a cat carrier. What?

"My sister's cat had kittens," they explained, following my gaze. "I'm cat-sitting. Her name is Pancake."

"You brought a cat to a sports tournament?"

"She has separation anxiety." Jordan shrugged like this was the most normal thing in the world. "Wanna hold her? She's basically emotional support."

And that's how I found myself sitting on the sidelines of a padel court, cradling a tiny orange kitten while watching Mia absolutely destroy Tyler's team. The crowd was going wild, someone's Bluetooth speaker was blasting something with way too much bass, and Pancake was purring like a tiny motor against my chest.

Jordan sat down next to me, our shoulders touching. "You know, you didn't have to play. You could've just come to hang."

"I know." I stared at the court, where Mia was doing a victory dance that was equal parts impressive and concerning. "I just didn't want to be the only one not doing stuff. Everyone's always doing something."

"Same." Jordan leaned back, watching the chaos. "I only joined because my parents think it'll look good on college apps. Most of the time I feel like I'm just going through the motions, you know? Like a zombie, but the cute kind."

I laughed, and Pancake shifted in my arms, waking up to blink sleepy eyes at both of us.

"Hey," Jordan said suddenly. "Want to get food after this? Like, actually food, not the weird granola bars they sell here."

"Yeah," I said, feeling something flutter in my chest that had nothing to do with social anxiety. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Maybe being a zombie wasn't so bad if you found other zombies to stumble through life with.