The Party Surveillance Mission

Maya's **hair** refused to cooperate, frizzing like it had a personal vendetta against her social life. She yanked a beanie **hat** low over her forehead—any lower and she'd look like a bank robber, but at this point, that was still an upgrade from how she actually felt.

"You going to stare at Jordan all night or actually talk to him?" Chloe whispered, shoving Maya toward the crowded basement where juniors were pretending the terrible **cable** connection wasn't killing the vibe of the movie marathon.

Maya adjusted her glasses. "I'm not staring. I'm gathering intelligence. There's a difference."

"You're not a **spy**, Maya. You're just awkward."

The truth was, Maya did feel like she was operating undercover—infiltrating a world where everyone seemed to know the secret handshake except her. She'd spent weeks watching Jordan from across classrooms, memorizing his schedule like it was classified material.

Then Jordan's friend pushed him toward her. "Hey Maya, nice hat."

Her brain short-circuited. "Thanks. I wear it for. Security purposes."

Security purposes? What even was that?

But Jordan laughed—actually laughed, not in a mean way. "Same. I basically feel like a **zombie** until third period anyway."

They spent the next hour crammed on the same basement couch, knees occasionally touching, discussing everything from why zombie apocalypse plans were essential to the conspiracy theory that the school **cable** system was definitely monitoring them for data.

"Your hat's kind of iconic though," Jordan said.

Maya pulled it off. Her hair was absolutely destroyed.

Jordan didn't flinch. "Yeah, I figured. Mine too."

His hair was sticking straight up from where his hat had been.

She realized then that nobody was actually watching her closely enough to notice her mistakes. They were all too busy worrying about their own. The real intelligence she'd gathered wasn't about Jordan at all—it was that everyone, even the people who seemed like they had it together, was just making it up as they went along.

"Next movie marathon," Maya said, "we're bringing our own snacks. I don't trust the cable company not to spy on our chip preferences."

"Deal," Jordan said.

Maya's hat stayed off the rest of the night.