The Papaya Apocalypse

Maya's cat, Marshmallow, sat on her bed judging her while she attempted to wrangle her frizzy hair into something resembling "effortlessly beachy." tonight was the night—her first date with Alex, who somehow made senior year look easy while Maya was still figuring out which lunch table to claim.

"You're literally useless," Maya told Marshmallow, who responded by knocking over a bottle of papaya-scented perfume her mom had given her. "Great. Now I'm gonna smell like a tropical smoothie."

Her phone buzzed. *Alex:* No pressure but everyone's gonna be at Tyler's party afterward

Maya's stomach did that thing where it felt like she'd swallowed live butterflies. She'd been to exactly two parties in her life, and both times she'd spent the whole time in the bathroom scrolling through TikTok.

She threw on her favorite oversized denim jacket and spotted the knit hat her grandmother had made her—the one with the pom-pom so massive it looked like it could achieve orbit. She usually only wore it when she was having a bad hair day, which was basically always.

"Hat on," she decided. "Identity protection engaged."

Her mom knocked on the door. "Honey, I made you a smoothie! It's got spinach and—"

"Mom, I'm already nervous!" Maya groaned. "A green smoothie is gonna make me look like I'm about to throw up."

"It's for energy! You've got that history test tomorrow too."

Maya chugged it anyway because her mom was right about everything, always.

Alex showed up wearing flannel and looking unfairly calm. "Ready?"

"Totally," Maya lied. "I'm very chill. I'm the chillest."

The movie was supposed to be a romantic comedy but Alex accidentally bought tickets to a zombie marathon instead. "My bad," Alex whispered. "We can leave?"

The theater was basically empty, which meant when Maya jumped at a jump-scare and popcorn went everywhere, nobody saw except Alex. Who laughed. Not in a mean way, but like, genuinely.

"I'm so sorry," Maya said, trying to sweep popcorn off her lap in the dark. "This is a disaster. I smell like fruit, I'm terrified of zombies, and now I'm covered in—"

"Maya." Alex's voice was soft. "I'm having fun. Are you?"

She paused. Actually, she was. The popcorn incident was funny. Alex had let her pick all the previews. And nobody was watching or judging or wondering why she was being so quiet.

"Yeah," Maya said. "I mean, except for the zombies trying to eat our brains."

"We'll survive," Alex said, and for the first time all night, Maya believed it.

Marshmallow was still judging her when she got home, but Maya didn't care. She took off the hat with its ridiculous pom-pom and set it on her desk—a reminder that sometimes the worst dates turned out to be the best ones, zombie apocalypse or not.