The Non-Zombie

I shuffled through the cafeteria like a **zombie**, my body running on three hours of sleep and pure adrenaline. The orange Crocs my mom made me wear weren't helping my case—they glowed against the scuffed linoleum like radioactive waste.

"Dude, you look dead," said Jordan, sliding into the seat across from me. His hair was perfectly messy, the kind of effortless that takes effort. "Rager last night?"

"Chemistry project," I muttered, poking at my tray. "And now I'm here. Being alive. Sort of."

The cafeteria lady had plopped something green on my plate. I stared at it.

"Is that..." Jordan squinted. "**Spinach**?"

"Apparently it's 'garden medley.'" I sighed. "My mom's new health kick. She thinks if I eat enough leafy greens, I'll magically become a functional human being who doesn't procrastinate until 2 AM."

Jordan laughed, but I caught something flicker in his expression. Empathy? Understanding? Whatever it was, it vanished when his friends called him over.

"Yo, Jordan! Party at Alex's tonight," someone shouted. "You coming?"

He stood up, hesitated. "Yeah, probably. You should come too, I mean, if you're not..." He gestured at my spinach. "You know."

I watched him walk away, joining the group that moved like a single organism, laughing at inside jokes I wasn't part of. That's when I noticed it—my phone screen glowing with the background I'd set weeks ago. A picture of me and my old friends, the ones who moved away over summer. We were at the beach, and I was wearing this ridiculous bright **orange** rash guard that made me look like a traffic cone.

I'd been so caught up in missing who I used to be that I hadn't tried becoming who I could be.

The spinach actually wasn't terrible. I took another bite. Jordan glanced back from his table, caught my eye, and gave me this tiny nod. Like he was waiting for me to show up tonight.

Maybe I would. Maybe I'd even wear the Crocs.

Being a zombie was easier. But being alive? That was where the good stuff happened.