The Friday Night Zombie Protocol

I stood by the snack table clutching my phone like a lifeline, feeling like a total zombie. My mom had made me promise to take my vitamin D supplement before leaving—"because teenagers don't get enough sunlight, Maya"—and now the bottle was burning a hole in my jacket pocket. Great. Definitely the vibe I wanted to project at Kayla's party.

The bass thumped through the floorboards as people filtered into the basement. I'd been waiting for this moment all week, my first real high school party, but now that I was here, I felt frozen. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do with their hands, their laughs, their everything. Meanwhile, I was busy calculating escape routes.

Then I saw him—Ethan, from my AP Bio class, heading toward me with that easy grin that made my stomach do actual gymnastics. I panicked.

"Hey!" he said. "You made it."

"Yeah!" I squeaked. "Just, uh, admiring the... chips."

Smooth, Maya. Truly iconic.

"Cool party, right?" He leaned against the wall, and I noticed for the first time that there was a tiny bear tattooed on his forearm. Like, cartoon bear. Unexpected.

"Is that... a bear?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

He laughed, actually amused. "Yeah, long story involving my girl scout sister and a dare. Don't ask."

And suddenly we were talking. Really talking. Not about surface-level party stuff but about how weird high school was, how we both felt like impostors half the time. He admitted he'd been nervous to come tonight too. Something unclenched in my chest.

Later, I found myself in the laundry room with the host's cat, a fluffy judgmental calico named Pickles who had apparently decided the party was beneath her. Ethan slid in behind me.

"We hiding now?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, and it wasn't even a lie. "Pickles seems like she has her priorities straight."

He sat down beside me, and we watched the cat clean her paw with absolute dignity. "You know," he said, "this is actually the best part of the party."

The zombie feeling had evaporated, replaced by something warmer and infinitely scarier. Later, walking home under streetlights, I realized I'd never taken the vitamin out of my pocket. Some things, you didn't need to supplement. They just happened on their own.