The Night I Didn't Die

I felt like a zombie—literally and figuratively. Three hours of sleep, a chem test I definitely didn't study for, and now Maya's birthday party where I knew approximately zero people besides her. The makeup tutorial I'd watched at 2 AM had said 'subtle undead vibes,' but the mirror was telling a different story. I looked like I'd been buried, not awoken.

"You look... committed?" Maya said, opening the door.

"That's one word for it," I muttered, stepping inside. The bass was already shaking the floorboards.

I headed straight for the snacks, because social interaction requires fuel. There, standing next to a towering plate of spinach artichoke dip, was Alex. The guy I'd been lowkey crushing on since September. His hair was doing that thing where it fell perfectly over one eye, and suddenly my zombie makeup felt extra tragic.

"Nice look," he said, grinning. "Going for the 'I literally can't even' aesthetic?"

"Something like that," I said, reaching for a chip. My hand knocked a spinach leaf right onto my white shirt. A bright green blotch, right on my chest. Because of course.

Before I could fully process my social suicide, a dog came bounding out of nowhere. A golden retriever, wearing a tiny party hat. Everyone screamed and laughed as it zoomed through the crowd, leaping onto sofas and knocking over cups.

"That's Luna!" someone yelled. "How'd she get in here?"

The dog made a beeline for me, probably sensing my desperation. She jumped up, her paws leaving muddy prints on my jeans—and her nose went straight for the spinach on my shirt. She licked it right off.

"Did that dog just save your outfit?" Alex asked, cracking up.

"I think she just improved it," I said, laughing despite myself.

Later, we ended up on the porch, waiting for Maya's mom to come home and retrieve Luna. Alex's friend group was out there too, and I was actually... talking? Like, not dying inside?

"So what's the deal with you and Maya anyway?" asked Chloe, who had actual fox energy—sleek, observant, slightly intimidating.

"We've been best friends since second grade," I said. "She threatened to disown me if I didn't come tonight."

"Glad you did," Alex said quietly, and my heart did this embarrassing little flip thing.

The dog whined at our feet, and Alex leaned down to pet her. His hand brushed mine—not an accident, I don't think.

"You know," he said, "I always thought you were kind of quiet. But you're actually pretty funny when you're not stuck in zombie mode."

"That's the goal," I said. "Next party: less undead, more functional human."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said, smiling.

I walked home with actual spinach on my breath (Luna wasn't thorough), dog hair on my clothes, and Alex's number in my phone. Not exactly the night I'd planned, but maybe better than the one I'd rehearsed in my head a thousand times. Sometimes being a disaster is exactly where you need to be.