The Friday I Finally Woke Up

I'd been operating on full zombie mode for three weeks straight. Finals season will do that to you — survive on caffeine and three hours of sleep, stumble through school like the walking dead, repeat.

"Dude, you look dead," Jordan said as I collapsed onto the pool deck bleachers.

"Thanks, bestie," I shot back. Jordan and I had been friends since seventh grade, back when matching neon shirts seemed like a good idea. But lately? Everything felt different. Jordan had joined the swim team sophomore year and somehow transformed into one of Those Kids — the ones who actually had their lives figured out.

I watched from the sidelines as Jordan dove in, slicing through the water like it was nothing. Swimming had changed Jordan. Or maybe Jordan had changed, and swimming was just the proof.

The coach blew the whistle. "Marcus, get in here!"

"What? No, I'm just watching—"

"Lane 4. Now. Bennett's sick."

Before I could process what was happening, I'd shucked my hoodie and was standing at the edge in board shorts that definitely weren't swim-team regulation. Whatever. I'd been swimming since I was six. How hard could this be?

Turns out, pretty hard when you haven't slept properly in weeks.

Two laps in, my lungs were screaming. My arms felt like lead. Jordan pulled up beside me, treading water.

"You good?"

"Never better," I wheezed.

"Practice is at six AM tomorrow if you want to join for real," Jordan said, something unreadable in their expression.

I opened my mouth to make some sarcastic comment about my excellent relationship with mornings, but Jordan burst out laughing.

"What?"

"Spinach," Jordan choked out. "From lunch. You still have — " gesturing vaguely at their own teeth " — yeah."

I died inside. I'd been walking around with green spinach stuck in my front teeth for like, four hours. And Jordan hadn't said anything until NOW?

But then Jordan just grinned and said, "Whatever. Come tomorrow?"

And that's when it hit me — Jordan wasn't leaving me behind. Jordan was waiting for me to catch up.

"Six AM," I said. "You're on."

"Don't be late, zombie."

I was still exhausted. I was still behind on everything. But running to the locker room, finally feeling awake for the first time in weeks, I thought: maybe I didn't need to have everything figured out. Maybe I just needed to keep showing up.

Even if that meant waking up at the crack of dawn to jump into a freezing pool.

Even with spinach in my teeth.

I was done sleepwalking through my life.