My Life as a Teenage Zombie

I'd been functioning on three hours of sleep since finals week, basically a zombie navigating the hallways with dark circles that made me look like I'd gone twelve rounds with life. My hair had given up somewhere around Thursday, deciding that frizz was its new personality trait.

"You coming to Jake's party?" asked Chloe, sliding next to my locker.

I shrugged. "Maybe. If my dog doesn't destroy the house again. Last time, he ate my homework AND my dad's baseball cap. Mom was ready to rehome both of us."

Chloe's eyes lit up. "Jake's cousin will be there. You know, the baseball player from West?"

"No. And don't start."

"But his hair—"

"CHLOE."

She laughed, but my stomach did that thing it always did when someone mentioned anything related to romance. Which was basically never, because my love life was as fictional as the cat my parents promised we'd get but never did.

The party turned out to be in Jake's backyard, complete with a bonfire and people who looked like they'd been planning their outfits since birth. I stood near the snacks, feeling extremely zombie-like, when someone tapped my shoulder.

"You look like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

I turned. Baseball Guy. Actual Jake's Cousin. He was wearing this flannel over a tee, and his hair was doing this perfectly imperfect thing that probably took effort.

"Pretty much," I said. "I'm just here for the food. And to escape my dog's judgment. He looks at me like I'm the disappointment."

He laughed. "What kind?"

"Golden retriever mix who thinks the couch is his personal enemy. You?"

"Cat person. Two of them. They basically run my life."

"Oh my god, same. My parents refuse."

"We should start a support group."

We talked for an hour. About our pets' war crimes, about how baseball was basically just standing around for three hours, about how school felt designed to destroy us. At one point, he said, "You know, you're actually funny. Not like, trying-to-be funny, but actually funny."

"I'll take it,"

The next morning, Chloe texted: "SO??"

"Maybe I'm not so dead inside," I replied.

"You're SO welcome."

My dog greeted me at the door like I'd been gone for years. And okay, maybe life wasn't so terrible. Maybe I wasn't just a zombie stumbling through it. Maybe, just maybe, I was actually living it.