The Day I Came Alive

I was basically a **zombie** by third period—hoodie up, dead eyes, shambling through sophomore year like the walking dead. My entire existence had been reduced to: survive algebra, avoid Taylor and her mean girl squad, and scroll TikTok until my brain turned to mush.

Then I noticed the spinach. A bright green chunk wedged between Chase Miller's front teeth during AP History. Chase, who I'd been lowkey crushing on since he transferred in September. Chase, whose **palm** had brushed mine when we both reached for the same history textbook, sending literal electricity up my arm that I tried to play cool but absolutely failed at.

"You got something..." I whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

His face turned the color of a ripe tomato. The bell rang, and I did something completely out of character—I started **running**. Not away from him, but toward something. Toward the cafeteria garbage can to grab a napkin, toward the chance to be decent instead of invisible, toward the version of myself who didn't just watch life happen from behind a phone screen.

I handed him the napkin. He grinned, spinach-free and devastatingly cute. "You're a lifesaver. Seriously."

"No big," I said, like my heart wasn't doing jumping jacks.

That was the day I stopped moving through school like a ghost. Taylor made some snide comment about my outfit in the hallway, and instead of shrinking into my hoodie, I actually laughed. Because suddenly, being the weird girl with the mismatched socks felt way better than being the perfect clone of everyone else.

Chase ended up sitting with me at lunch. We talked about video games and how much we both hated PE class. I learned he was secretly obsessed with gardening—hence the spinach salad in his lunchbox.

"You're not like the others here," he said.

"Yeah," I smiled, finally feeling something real. "I think I'm done being a zombie."