Palms, Bull, and the Zombie Within

Maya's palms were sweating — like, literally dripping — as she stared down the hallway toward Jordan's locker. The **bull** of sophomore year had been making her life miserable since September, and today she'd finally reached her limit. Four hours of sleep (thanks to that history paper) plus two energy drinks had left her feeling like a literal **zombie** shuffling through the school day.

"You're blocking my locker, again," Maya said, her voice cracking slightly. Great. Smooth.

Jordan looked up from their phone, that signature smirk already forming. "Oops. My bad. Not."

Maya's friends had been telling her for weeks to just confront them, but like — easier said than done, right? Jordan had, what? A hundred followers on TikTok? Everyone acted like they were royalty or something. Maya was just trying to survive AP classes and maintain enough brain cells to function.

"Seriously, move."

"Make me."

The hallway went weirdly quiet. Maya could feel everyone watching, and suddenly she was hyperaware of everything — the way her heart was hammering against her ribs, how her **palm** hair was probably a mess from the wind outside, the fact that she was definitely wearing two different socks (crisis mode).

Then Jordan's phone buzzed. Their expression shifted — just for a second, but Maya caught it. Something genuine. Concern?

"Whatever," Jordan muttered, grabbing their stuff and actually stepping aside. "Not worth it today."

Maya stood there confused as Jordan walked away, shoulders hunched. Later she'd find out Jordan's mom had lost her job that morning. That the **bull** routine was just armor. That maybe everyone was kind of a **zombie** trying to make it through high school without falling apart.

But in that moment? Maya just opened her locker, hands still shaking, and let herself feel proud. She'd stood up for herself. That counted for something.

And okay, maybe she'd fix her hair first. Baby steps.