Palm Reading at the Zombie 5K

I looked like a straight-up **zombie**. Three hours of sleep will do that to you. Thanks, AP History exam.

"You good, Maya?" Lily asked as we waited at the starting line.

"Never been more deceased," I mumbled, adjusting my race bib for the charity 5K. My makeup was already smudging under my eyes. Classic.

The crowd was thick—mostly students from Northwood High, plus some random townies. I spotted Tyler near the front, stretching those calf muscles that everyone talked about. Of course he'd be here. Captain of the cross-country team, probably **running** this thing like it was a warm-up jog.

"Go talk to him," Lily whisper-shoved me. "He's literally staring at you."

"He's looking at the **palm** tree behind me, you delusional wingwoman."

But then Tyler caught my eye and waved. My palms started sweating immediately. Like, actually dripping. Why did teenage hormones have to be so embarrassingly physical?

The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. "Runners, take your marks!"

I took off, my zombie limbs suddenly jolting awake. The first half-mile was brutal—my playlist shuffled to the most unhinged pump-up music, and I was basically power-walking while trying to look athletic. Tyler pulled ahead smoothly, effortlessly perfect.

Then my phone fell out of my armband.

I scrambled to grab it, nearly tripping over my own feet. A hand caught my elbow.

"Whoa there." Tyler. His face was flushed, smiling. "You okay?"

I stared at my hand—still clamped around his forearm. My palm print was literally on his skin. This was fine. Everything was fine.

"Yeah, just... zombie mode today," I said lamely. "Three hours of sleep equals zero coordination."

"Relatable." He fell into step beside me. "Mind if I zombie-walk with you?"

We finished the race walking, talking about everything and nothing. My phone played in my pocket, forgotten. The zombie feeling faded with every laugh, every shared complaint about teachers, every time he looked at me like I was actually interesting.

At the finish line, Lily took approximately five hundred photos of us. I didn't even care.

"Same time next week?" Tyler asked, grinning.

"Definitely," I said. "But I'm sleeping for twelve hours first."

"Deal."

Sometimes being a zombie led to the most alive moments. Who knew?