Snapback Apocalypse

My mom insisted I take the **vitamin** before leaving. 'It'll boost your immune system,' she said, as if vitamins could fix social anxiety. I swallowed it anyway, grabbed my lucky backwards **hat**, and headed to Jordan's house party—the kind that could make or break your entire high school existence.

The moment I walked in, I spotted Jordan's new Sphinx **cat** perched on the kitchen counter like a wrinkly, hairless god of chaos. Someone had drawn eyebrows on it with Sharpie. The poor creature looked like it was questioning every life choice that led to this moment. Honestly, same.

'I dare you to pet it,' said Tyler, leaning against the fridge with that practiced casualness that took some people years to master. 'Unless you're scared.'

The room went quiet. This was it—the social equivalent of a boss battle. My palms started sweating. I could feel the 'lowkey gonna die' meme playing in my head on loop.

Then Maya walked in. Actual Maya, who I'd been lowkey obsessing over since September. She looked like she'd just walked off a Pinterest board. My brain short-circuited. I stopped thinking. I reached out to pet the Sharpie-browed cat.

The cat hissed and bolted, knocking over a massive bowl of red punch. The splash radius was catastrophic. My white sneakers were now crime scene evidence. My hat fell into the puddle. I looked like a literal **zombie** from one of those cheesy Netflix originals—shirt stained, hair messed up, dignity nonexistent.

But then Maya laughed. Not the mean-girl laugh I expected, but actual laughing.

'That was legendary,' she said, grabbing a handful of napkins and helping me clean up. 'I'm Maya, by the way.'

'Leo,' I managed, my voice cracking like I was still in middle school. 'And I'm usually cooler than this. Probably.'

She winked. 'We'll see. The cat thing was pretty brave though.'

Maybe embarrassing yourself wasn't the end of the world. Maybe sometimes it was exactly how you started living.