The Night I Died Socially

I looked like a **zombie**. No, seriously — three days of finals, four hours of sleep total, and my concealer was doing absolutely nothing to hide the dark circles under my eyes. But here I was, standing outside Jason's house party, clutching a bag of ice like it was a lifeline.

"You got this," Tasha said, checking her reflection in her phone. "Just be chill. Don't be weird."

Chill. Right. Because I'm totally known for being chill.

We walked in, and the bass hit me like a physical force. Someone had hooked up a speaker system using this sketchy mass of **cable** that snaked across the living room floor. I watched three people nearly trip over it in the first thirty seconds.

Then I saw HIM. Caleb. The guy I'd been lowkey obsessed with since September. He was standing by the food table, looking unfairly good even in a crowded, overheated room.

I made a beeline for the snacks. Social anxiety requires carbs, obviously. I reached for what I thought was a harmless fruit salad thing and took a massive bite.

**Papaya**.

It was straight-up papaya. Who puts papaya in a fruit salad? It tastes like soap decided to be fruit. I literally gagged, and that's when I felt it.

Something in my teeth.

I bolted to the bathroom, pushed through the door, and there it was in the mirror. A massive, disgusting piece of **spinach** stuck between my front teeth, looking like I'd been eating a salad mid-conversation with Caleb. HOW LONG had it been there? Had he seen it? Had EVERYONE seen it?

I wanted to die. Actually die. Cease to exist.

The door opened behind me. Caleb. OF COURSE it was Caleb.

"Yo, you okay?" he asked. "You looked like you saw a ghost out there."

I stared at him. Spinach teeth. Papaya breath. **Zombie** face. This was it. This was my social grave.

"Yeah," I said, my voice cracking. "Just... you know. Living the dream."

He laughed. Actually laughed. "That party is **bull** anyway. Want to bounce? There's a diner down the street."

I looked at him. Really looked at him. And for the first time all night, I didn't feel like dying.

"Actually," I said, "I'd love that."

Sometimes the worst moments lead to the best ones. And papaya is still gross, though.