Orange Crush Apocalypse

Maya's first mistake was volunteering for the morning smoothie shift during Homecoming Week. Her second mistake was agreeing to the zombie theme.

"You look like a traffic cone that died," her coworker Jamal said, sliding an empty cup across the counter. "But, like, in a hot way."

Maya adjusted her orange face paint. It was everywhere—on her uniform, somehow on her ear, definitely smeared across her forehead. At seventeen, she'd thought she was too old for spirit week. Too cool. But here she was, working the Juiced! counter while feeling like a literal **zombie** because she'd stayed up until 3 AM watching Jordan's livestream again.

Jordan, who didn't know she existed.

"Order for Jordan!" Jamal called.

Maya's stomach did that embarrassing flop thing. She turned to grab the cup—her hands were shaking, why were they shaking?—and knocked over the entire container of organic **spinach**. Green sludge exploded across the counter, her apron, and somehow, somehow, into the hair of the person standing there.

Jordan.

Standing right there. With green dripping down their vintage band tee.

The smoothie shop went silent. Like, horror movie silent. Maya wanted to dissolve. To actually become a **zombie** and eat her own brain to escape this moment.

Jordan stared at her. Then at the **spinach** in their hair. Then back at Maya, who looked like a radioactive **orange** nightmare.

"Well," Jordan said, and then they started laughing. Not mean laughing. Actual laughing. "Guess I'm officially part of the homecoming spirit now."

They reached for a napkin, wiped some green off their shirt, and Maya's carefully constructed walls cracked open. Something about Jordan not being mad, about them finding this funny instead of humiliating, made her own laugh bubble up.

"I can make you a real one," Maya managed. "On the house. With extra spinach. For, you know, authenticity."

"Deal," Jordan said, and their smile was real. "But you have to tell me your actual name. I feel like we've moved past 'that orange zombie girl'."

"Maya."

"Maya," Jordan repeated, like it was something important. "I'm Jordan. And I've been trying to work up the courage to talk to you for weeks, so honestly? This is better than anything I could've planned."

Later, when Maya finally washed the **orange** from her face and the **spinach** from her hair, she couldn't stop smiling. Some days feel like a disaster until you realize they're actually just a beginning.