Palm Sweats and Party Zombies

Maya's palms were sweating so much she might actually slip right out of Kai's basement. The first real party of sophomore year, and she'd spent forty-five minutes hiding behind a particularly aggressive fake palm tree near the snack table.

"You good?" Kai appeared, holding two Solo cups. "You look like a zombie apocalypse survivor."

"That's exactly what three hours of sleep looks like," Maya muttered. Her mom had started her on this new vitamin regimen that apparently made you "feel like your best self" but mostly just made her nauseous. "Also, Jordan's over there telling everyone he got accepted to some exclusive summer coding program. Total bull."

"Wait, really?" Kai raised an eyebrow. "He's been going on about it all week."

"I checked the program website. Doesn't exist." Maya's voice wavered—she never called people out, never caused scenes. But something about the way Jordan kept exaggerating everything was getting under her skin. Like he was performing a version of himself instead of just being, well, himself.

Kai studied her for a moment. "You should expose him."

"What? No. I'll look petty."

"Or," Kai said, "you could do that palm reading thing you learned from your grandma. Make it part of the bit." A grin spread across his face. "Tell him his life line shows he'll get caught in his own lies by midnight."

Maya snorted, surprising herself. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Kai gestured toward the group around Jordan. "Everyone's pretending anyway. Might as well have fun with it."

And suddenly, Maya realized he was right. The fake laughter, the posed photos, Jordan's entirely fictional coding program—everyone was performing. So she stepped out from behind the palm tree, wiped her sweating palms on her jeans, and headed toward the circle.

Time to stop acting like a zombie through her own life.