The Night I Didn't Die (Socially)

I shuffled into homeroom feeling like a straight-up zombie—three hours of sleep after finishing that APUSH paper will do that to you. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Probably Maya finally texting back. Or maybe not. Probably not.

"You look dead," whispered Leo, sliding into the desk beside me. "Big night?"

"Research paper," I mugged. "And I had baseball practice till six. Coach Anderson is on some power trip about regionals."

Baseball had been my whole identity since freshman year. Third base, starting varsity, the whole deal. But lately? I'd been feeling… weird about it. Like maybe I was playing because it was what I was supposed to do, not because I actually loved it anymore.

The real problem wasn't baseball though. It was Maya Fox.

Yes, her last name was actually Fox. And yes, she was absolutely foxy—which was a word I'd never say out loud unless I wanted to socially assassinate myself. She sat two rows ahead, her hair this perfect messy brown that looked accidental but definitely wasn't.

"So," Leo lowered his voice. "You gonna talk to her at the game today?"

"Nah."

"Bro, you're being such a—"

"I'm not being anything!" I cut him off. "What am I supposed to say? 'Hey Maya, nice weather, also I've been lowkey obsessed with you since September'? That's not smooth. That's creepy."

The bell rang. I grabbed my bag, suddenly very conscious of how I must look—zombie-mode exhausted, probably smelling like baseball practice, about to give a presentation I'd barely finished.

But then something happened. Maya Fox turned around.

"Hey," she said.

My brain short-circuited. "Hey."

"You coming to the game?"

She was asking me. ME. About MY baseball game. That she was planning to attend.

"Yeah," I managed, hearing my voice crack slightly. Great. "Why?"

Smooth. Real smooth.

Maya smiled. It wasn't a fake smile. It was real.

"Because I want to see if third base can actually catch this time," she teased. "Also, your friend Leo said you might need someone to cheer for you. Since you look like you haven't slept in three days."

I felt something shift inside me—like waking up from being a zombie, suddenly hyperaware and alive.

"I'll try not to embarrass myself," I said.

"No promises," she winked. "But I'll bring you a gatorade if you survive."

For the first time all week, I didn't feel like I was just going through the motions. Baseball tonight? Actually excited about it. The exhaustion? Gone. And Maya Fox knowing my name and planning to show up?

Maybe life wasn't so bad after all.

Maybe I wasn't a zombie anymore.