The Friday Night Zombie

Marcus felt like a zombie as he stumbled into Jenna's house party. Three days of binge-walking The Last of Us will do that to you. His hair was a mess, his eyes were half-closed, and he was pretty sure he was still wearing the same shirt from Tuesday.

"Dude, you look dead," said Carlos, high-fiving him with unnecessary force.

"Rough week," Marcus managed. "Zombie marathon."

"Whatever. Just don't puke on the carpet."

The party was exactly what Marcus expected: too loud, too crowded, and filled with people who seemed to know exactly what they were doing. He grabbed an orange soda from the kitchen counter and leaned against the wall, calculating the minimum amount of time he needed to stay before he could bail without looking like a total loser.

That's when he saw her.

She was standing by the sliding glass door, wearing a dress that looked like it belonged in a museum, with bright orange hair that caught every light in the room. Not natural orange. ORANGE orange. Like, traffic cone orange. Marcus had never seen anyone at Northwood High with hair that color.

She looked miserable.

Before his brain could stop his feet, Marcus found himself walking toward her.

"Nice hair," he said, and immediately wanted to die. That was literally the worst opening line in human history.

But she just smiled. "Thanks. My mom said it looks like a traffic accident."

"Traffic accidents can be cool," Marcus said, then winced. "I mean, not real ones. Obviously. But, like, artistically."

She laughed, and Marcus felt something weird happen in his chest. Not a medical emergency. Maybe.

"I'm Luna," she said. "You're Marcus, right? You sit behind me in AP Bio."

"You know who I am?"

"I notice things," she said with a shrug. "Plus, you always have really detailed doodles of zombies in your notebook."

Marcus felt his face heat up. "Those are supposed to be scientific illustrations."

"Sure, Marcus. Sure." She motioned to the table behind her. "Want to try something?"

"Depends. Is it alcohol? Because my mom can smell beer from three blocks away."

"Better." She handed him a piece of yellow-orange fruit. "Papaya. My host mom is from Brazil and apparently this is a party food now."

Marcus took a bite. It was weird—sweet but kind of musky, with seeds that looked like tiny black pearls. "It's... interesting."

"That's code for 'I hate it,' isn't it?"

"No, it's code for 'I've never had anything like this and my brain doesn't know what to do.'"

Luna's smile got bigger. "That's basically my entire life right now."

They spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing: zombie apocalypse strategies, why high school felt like a pyramid scheme where everyone invested their dignity but nobody got paid back, the time Marcus accidentally set his kitchen on fire making toast. Luna told him about moving to Oregon from Brazil, how she felt like everyone here had known each other since preschool, and she was still learning the unwritten rules.

"It's like there's this whole social pyramid," she said, gesturing at the room. "And I don't know where I fit. Or if I even want to fit."

"Maybe we don't have to fit," Marcus said. "Maybe we can just... be."

"Deep." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "You're pretty cool for a zombie."

"You're pretty cool for someone who traffics in suspicious fruit."

When Jenna's parents got home at midnight, the party broke up fast. Marcus walked Luna to her bike in the driveway.

"Hey," she said, swinging her leg over the seat. "You want to come over tomorrow? My host mom's making feijoada. It's not suspicious. Probably."

"I'd love that," Marcus said, and meant it. "But can I request that you don't describe it as 'probably not suspicious'?"

Luna laughed. "Text you."

As Marcus walked home in the cold, he realized he didn't feel like a zombie anymore. Maybe it was the papaya. Maybe it was the conversation. Maybe it was the way Luna's orange hair had caught the light when she laughed.

Or maybe—just maybe—he was starting to figure out that the pyramid wasn't as important as everyone said it was. And that was way better than any video game marathon.