Market Crash at Midnight

Maya's phone buzzed at 2:47 AM. Again.

"You seeing this?" The text from Leo flashed against her ceiling. "Bear market incoming."

Maya groaned, feeling like a certified **zombie** after three nights of half-sleep. Their zombie apocalypse survival club was supposed to meet tomorrow, but Leo's obsession had shifted from the walking dead to the walking wounded—aka, their crypto portfolio that had crashed harder than her GPA after calculus.

"Leo," she texted back, thumbs flying. "We're fifteen. Stop acting like a Wall Street **bull** trader who lost his Lamborghini."

But it wasn't just crypto drama. The real bear was looming—her mother had discovered Maya's secret Instagram account where she posted her art. The account with zero followers because she was too scared to let anyone see it. The conversation tonight would be brutal.

The problem wasn't the art itself. It was that her entire friend group thought Maya was "the practical one," the one who'd major in something sensible like business or engineering. They'd pinned her as future corporate material, not some kid who stayed up until 3 AM drawing charcoal portraits of people who didn't exist yet.

First period zombie-walked through her brain like a fog. Chemistry formulas blurred. Jake, the guy she'd been crushing on since September, asked if she was okay.

"Fine," she lied. "Just tired."

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said, genuinely concerned. "Or like you're becoming one."

Maya almost laughed. He had no idea.

By lunch, Leo sat across from her, eyes wide. "Penny stocks. That's the play. We go **bear** on everything else, go all in on penny stocks, rebound by homecoming—"

"Leo," Maya interrupted, something breaking inside her. "I don't care about stocks. Or crypto. Or fake portfolio games."

He blinked. "But that's our thing. That's what we do."

"Is it?" She looked around the cafeteria, at Jake laughing with his friends, at the group that expected her to be someone she wasn't. "Or is that just what everyone thinks I'm supposed to care about?"

Her phone buzzed. Her mom.

"We need to talk about your art," the text read. Not angry. Just... interested.

Maya stared at it. Then she showed it to Leo.

"Wait," he said, "you draw? Like, actual art?"

She nodded slowly.

"That's... actually kind of sick?" Leo's face lit up. "Way cooler than fake Wall Street."

The bell rang. Zombies everywhere shuffled to class. But for the first time in weeks, Maya didn't feel like one of them.

She'd rather be a starving artist than a well-fed fake.

"Jake likes horror movies," Leo said suddenly. "Show him your zombie sketches."

Maya smiled. A real one.

Maybe the market wasn't crashing after all. Maybe it was just finally opening.