The Social Media Apocalypse

Marcus dragged himself to third period feeling like actual roadkill. Three straight nights of doom-scrolling until 3 AM will do that to you. His baseball coach had been on his case all week about his "zombie-like performance" at practice, and honestly? Coach wasn't wrong.

"You good, man?" Tyler asked, sliding into the desk next to him. "You look rough."

Marcus shrugged, automatically reaching for his iPhone in his pocket. It was basically an extension of his hand at this point. "Just tired. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because you literally fell asleep during English yesterday," Tyler laughed. "Anyway, you coming to Jordan's party tonight? Supposed to be epic."

The party. Marcus had been stressing about it all week. Jordan, the shortstop on the baseball team, had somehow become the social center of their grade overnight. Marcus, the backup catcher who'd been riding the bench all season, wasn't exactly on the A-list. But if he bailed again, he'd be officially labeled "weird baseball kid" for the rest of high school.

"Yeah," Marcus said, though he'd rather be literally anywhere else. "I'll be there."

That night, standing in Jordan's basement surrounded by people he'd known since elementary school but suddenly felt like complete strangers around, Marcus's phone buzzed. Another notification. Another hit of dopamine. He unlocked it, losing himself in the endless stream, disconnected from the actual humans around him. The irony hit him hard—he'd spent months curating this perfect online persona, but in real life? He was barely present.

"Marcus!" A girl named Sophia waved at him. "Stop being antisocial and come play beer pong with us!"

He hesitated. Then, he made a choice. He pocketed his iPhone and walked over.

Maybe being a zombie didn't have to be permanent. Maybe he could actually, you know, participate in his own life.

"I'm in," Marcus said, and for the first time in weeks, he actually meant it.