The Summer I Woke Up

I felt like a **zombie** the entire summer after freshman year. Mom called it "screen addiction," but honestly? I was just emotionally exhausted from surviving the social **pyramid** that is high school. You know the type—popular kids at the top, everyone else climbing over each other underneath.

"Marcus! Get outside!" Dad yelled, probably for the third time.

I dragged myself off the bed, tripping over the tangled **cable** behind my desk. Again. That thing had been a death trap since I'd set up my gaming monitor.

"We're going to the rec center. Your cousin's waiting."

Great. More family obligations. But when we got there, Jasmine handed me a **padel** racquet like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"You're gonna love it, Marcus. It's like tennis but cooler."

I stepped onto the court, feeling ridiculous. But then something weird happened—I didn't suck. The glass walls made this satisfying *thwack* when the ball hit them. My reflexes, honed from endless gaming, actually translated.

"Not bad, zombie boy," Jasmine laughed after I won my first point.

We played for hours. I forgot about my phone. Forgot about where I sat in the cafeteria hierarchy. Forgot about the college applications Mom was already stressing about.

On the way home, Dad asked, "So, you alive again?"

I looked at my hands—still holding the padel racquet I'd forgotten to return. "Yeah," I said, surprised I meant it. "Yeah, I think I am."

That night, I finally organized that stupid cable behind my desk. Small steps. But sometimes that's how you stop feeling like the walking dead and actually start living.