The Summer I Became a Zombie

The coaxial **cable** sat coiled on my bedroom floor like a dead snake, left over from when my dad tried to upgrade our internet and gave up halfway through. I kicked it every morning on my way to my summer job at TechTown, where I spent eight hours a day drilling through drywall and fishing cables through walls people didn't even want.

"You look like a **zombie**," Mia said, sliding into the booth across from me at Bob's Burger Barn. She was right — my eyes were bloodshot, my uniform was stained with drywall dust, and I'd started responding to questions with guttural groans instead of actual words.

"Thanks," I munched on my fries. "Working fifty hours a week will do that to you."

Mia fiddled with her phone, not meeting my eyes. "So, Chelsea's party tonight..."

Ah yes. Chelsea Baxter, queen of the junior class, whose social circle operated like a **pyramid** scheme. You had to buy your way in with compliments, loyalty, and embarrassing stories about people outside the pyramid. I'd spent freshman year trying to climb that thing, sophomore year maintaining my position near the middle, and now, junior year, I was sliding all the way down to the bottom without even caring.

"I'm not going," I said.

Mia's head snapped up. "What? But you have to. Everyone's gonna be there. It's literally the party of the year."

"I'd literally rather sleep."

"Since when do you sleep instead of partying? You're the guy who convinced half the school toTP the principal's house during homecoming."

"That was before I had real problems." I gestured at my grease-stained polo. "This job is actually killing me, Mia. Chelsea's party is just gonna be people standing in a kitchen, drinking warm beer, and pretending to have fun while secretly ranking each other's outfits. I'm done."

Mia stared at me for a long moment. Then she smiled — actually smiled, not her fake I'm-at-the-top-of-the-pyramid smile. "You know what? Me too."

"Really?"

"Chelsea tried to get me to sell those essential oils for her 'business venture' yesterday." She used air quotes. "When I said no, she told me I was losing my spot in the group for real."

"So let's lose it together."

That night, we didn't go to Chelsea's. We went to my house, found that old cable in my room, and spent six hours watching terrible B-movies on my laptop while eating an entire pizza. I wasn't a zombie anymore. I was just tired, which is different. And the pyramid? We built our own thing out here in the cheap seats. It was way better anyway.