Mechanical Bull State of Mind

Maya felt like a straight-up zombie. Three days of finals, two energy drinks, and approximately four hours of total sleep will do that to you. She shuffled through the Spring Carnival, her brain functioning on approximately one percent power.

"You look dead," said Jace, falling into step beside her. He was annoyingly well-rested.

"Thanks, captain obvious," Maya shot back, adjusting her oversized orange sweatshirt. Her mom had bought it because "orange brings out your eyes," but really it just made her look like a traffic cone.

Then she saw it. The mechanical bull.

And there was Tyler—the bull of Northwood High, as everyone called him—surrounded by his typical entourage, watching some poor freshman get thrown off in three seconds flat. Tyler caught her eye and smirked. "Hey, traffic cone. You gonna ride or just stand there looking like you've seen a ghost?"

Something snapped. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Maybe it was three years of Tyler's nonsense.

"Watch me," she said.

The operator strapped her in. Maya's heart hammered. She'd never done anything like this—never been the girl who drew attention or took risks. She was the background character in everyone else's movie.

The bull jerked forward. Maya gripped the handle, her thighs screaming as the machine bucked beneath her. Left. Right. Spin. She heard her friends cheering, heard Tyler going quiet.

Eight seconds. Ten. Twelve.

When she finally flew off, she landed in the hay laughing, her orange sweatshirt covered in dust. Tyler wasn't smirking anymore. Jace was losing his mind.

Maya lay there looking up at the carnival lights, exhausted but absolutely alive. She'd ride this bull a hundred times if it meant feeling this real. Sometimes the zombie moments are the ones that wake you up.