The Boy Who Walked Like a Zombie

Marcus had been walking like a **zombie** for three days straight—ever since his best friend started sitting at the popular table during lunch. His mom said he was just tired from staying up too late gaming, but Marcus knew the truth. His social life was officially dead.

Tuesday morning, Marcus found his brother's old beanie in the coat closet. A floppy **hat** with a ridiculous pompom on top. He pulled it down over his ears, letting it swallow his forehead like a security blanket. If he couldn't be invisible, at least he could hide.

"You look like a train conductor," his little sister chirped.

Marcus shrugged. "It's called fashion, Maya. Look it up."

At school, he became a professional **spy** of the hallway ecosystem. Watching without being seen. He noticed how the popular group laughed at everything Tyler said, even when it wasn't funny. He noticed how his former friend Jordan kept glancing toward their old table, like maybe he regretted the upgrade.

The worst part? Marcus couldn't decide if he was angry or just lonely. Probably both.

"You good, man?" asked Lena, the girl who sat behind him in history. She always drew intricate patterns on her notebooks instead of taking notes.

"Just tired," Marcus muttered.

She nodded knowingly. "Junior year will do that to you. Also, you've been staring at Jordan like he's your ex."

Marcus's face burned. "He was supposed to be my **friend**. We made a pact, you know? Ninth grade promise that we'd never become those people who ditch their crew for popularity."

"People change," Lena said, twisting a strand of blue-streaked hair around her finger. "Or maybe they were always that way, and ninth-grade us was too naive to see it."

That night, Marcus found himself scrolling through old photos on his phone. Him and Jordan at the beach, wearing matching goofy sunglasses they'd bought at a tourist trap. Jordan making a ridiculous face, Marcus laughing so hard he could barely **bear** to look at the camera without cracking up.

The memory made his chest hurt. But under the pain was something else—clarity.

The next day, Marcus walked into the cafeteria wearing his stupid pompom hat. He didn't sit alone in the corner like a zombie waiting for the social apocalypse to end. He sat with Lena and her weird art friends, and when she asked about the hat, he told her the truth: it was his armor.

Jordan looked over once. Marcus didn't look back.

Some friendships die, Marcus realized. But that doesn't mean you have to be a zombie forever. You just keep walking until you find the people who actually see you. And if you need a ridiculous hat to help you get there? So be it.