The Spy Who Fell for a Zombie

I'd been spying on him for weeks. Not like, creepy stalking—just casual Instagram story watching. Marcus. The boy with orange Converse that somehow matched every single outfit. My best friend Priya said I was in my zombie era, and she wasn't wrong. I'd been staying up until 3 AM just to catch his posts the second they dropped, functioning on caffeine and vibes like some actual undead creature.

"You need to shoot your shot," Priya said while we shared an orange creamsicle at the park. "This zombie behavior is getting out of hand."

I laughed but my stomach did that nervous flip thing. Because Marcus had posted something weird yesterday—a picture of his orange Conposes with the caption "zobmie mode activted" and I was pretty sure that was meant to be zombie and that maybe, possibly, it was for me? Because he'd liked my post about being exhausted from finals week right before.

The universe works in mysterious ways. Next day at school, I found myself at the vending machine when Marcus walked up. His orange Converse squeaked against the linoleum and my brain literally stopped working.

"Hey," he said. "You're in my English class, right?"

"Yes," I squeaked. Smooth.

"Cool." He reached past me and pressed the button for orange soda. "I've been, like, a total zombie lately. Finals and stuff."

"Me too," I managed. "Zombie era, honestly."

We stood there for what felt like forever but was probably thirty seconds, both holding orange sodas, both exhausted, both pretending we weren't totally checking each other out. Later that night, my phone buzzed. A follow request. From Marcus.

Priya called me immediately. "I saw it. Your spying days are OVER. Now you're just living the dream."

Maybe she was right. The zombie mode was worth it if this was how it ended.