Dead Tired & Bull-ish

The neon green SIGN-UP SHEET mocked me from the community center bulletin board. ZOMBIE 5K FUN RUN, it screamed in Comic Sans. Next to it: MECHANICAL BULL CONTEST. My cousin Lena already had her Sharpie poised.

"Come on, Marco," she said, already signing my name without looking. "You've been walking around like a **zombie** since finals week ended. You literally need summer to hit you in the face."

I couldn't argue. Between AP everything and my parents' divorce paperwork stacking up on the kitchen counter like dirty dishes, I'd been operating on autopilot. Navigating high school when your home life is imploding will do that to you.

"My aunt owns the concession stand," she continued. "Free **water** ice all day. Unless you're too cool for cherry?"

The county fair smelled like fried dough, desperation, and the particular musk of teenagers trying way too hard. Everywhere I looked, people were performing — flirting in exaggerated whispers, laughing too loud at mediocre jokes, posting stories that would disappear in twenty-four hours but somehow felt permanent.

Then I saw Jason Chen standing near the mechanical bull, surrounded by his lacrosse buddies. Jason, who'd made freshman year miserable with endless comments about my "weird" vintage sneakers and "weirder" obsession with botany. Jason, the human **bull** in every social china shop he entered.

"What's up, Marco," he called out, that smirk spreading across his face like oil on water. "Finally gonna man up and ride this thing?"

Something in me snapped. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was realizing that letting Jason dictate my self-worth for three years was absolutely ridiculous.

"Actually," I heard myself saying, "yeah. Yeah, I am."

The operator strapped me in, mumbling something about keeping my free hand clear. The bull lurched forward — and then it was chaos. Spinning, jerking, throwing me in every direction. The crowd's cheers blurred into white noise. Jason and his friends were probably filming this, probably already drafting captions.

But I didn't fall. I rode that mechanical monster for a solid 47 seconds before it finally bucked me into the padding. When I stood up, dizzy and grinning, Jason wasn't laughing anymore. Neither was I, really — I was just... present. Fully, ridiculously, gloriously present.

Lena handed me a cherry water ice. "Not bad, zombie. Not bad."