The Vitamin D Conspiracy

Maya chewed her fourth gummy **vitamin** of the week, staring at her phone screen like a **zombie** at 2 AM. The blue light washed over her face as she refreshed Instagram for the fiftieth time, watching Lila's stories from Jake's party — the party she hadn't been invited to.

"You're spiraling again," said Jordan, dropping onto her bed and stealing the vitamin bottle. "Your sleep schedule is literally deceased."

"I'm not spiraling. I'm conducting research." Maya grabbed the bottle back. "I'm basically a **spy** at this point. tactical observation."

"You're stalking your ex-best friend from a burner account, Maya. That's not tactical, that's sad."

Maya rolled her eyes but didn't disagree. Lila had been her **friend** since kindergarten, but ever since Lila made varsity cheer and started dating Jake (captain of the **baseball** team, naturally), their friendship had been evaporating like water in July. Now Lila posted aesthetic photos with captions like "living my best life" while Maya sat at home in oversized hoodies, feeling like background character in someone else's coming-of-age movie.

"She blocked me," Maya said quietly. "My main account, anyway."

Jordan sighed. "Maya, you need to stop living through her stories. It's weird."

"I know!" Maya buried her face in her hands. "I just — what did I do wrong? Why am I not enough?"

"You're enough," Jordan said firmly. "You're just not... trying. You haven't joined a club since drama club freshman year. You don't put yourself out there. You're waiting for life to happen to you, but that's not how any of this works."

The next day, Maya showed up to **baseball** tryouts. She hadn't played since middle school, but Jordan was right — she needed to stop watching from the sidelines. Lila could have her aesthetic parties and her filtered photos. Maya would make her own story.

She struck out swinging her first three at-bats. But by the fourth, she connected with the ball, watching it sail over the fence.

The vitamin gummies sat untouched on her nightstand that night. For once, she wasn't a zombie. She was exhausted, sore, and absolutely terrified — but she was finally living her own life, not watching someone else's.