The Vitamin Z Apocalypse

I woke up feeling like a zombie—literally. My makeup was half-done, dark circles from staying up until 3 AM gaming, and I had exactly twenty minutes to get to school. I grabbed the vitamin gummies Mom left on the counter and bolted out the door, my dog Buster trailing behind me like he knew something was up.

"You look like death," Maya said when I slid into my homeroom seat. She was right. I'd been feeling off all week, like I was watching my life through a foggy window. The social scene at school felt like one giant zombie apocalypse everyone was pretending wasn't happening—same cliques, same drama, same people trying to eat each other's brains for popularity.

The real hit came at lunch. I overheard the senior football guys talking about how freshmen were "bearing it" this year, like we were some burden they had to endure. The word stung more than it should've. I'd been trying out for the starting midfielder position on the soccer team, and suddenly I felt smaller, like I didn't belong.

"Forget them," Maya said, handing me her phone. "Watch this."

It was a TikTok of Mr. Harrison, our history teacher, doing an awkward dance in the cafeteria. The caption read: "When you think you're cool but you're actually out here bearing your soul like it's still 2015."

I cracked up. Something about seeing an adult be unapologetically cringe made me feel better.

"Your tryouts are today, right?" Maya asked.

I nodded, suddenly nervous. But then I thought about Mr. Harrison's terrible dance moves, about how my dog Buster still loved me even when I was at my worst, about how vitamin gummies literally taste like candy but they're good for you.

"Yeah," I said. "And you know what? I'm gonna crush it."

I walked onto that field like I owned it. Let the seniors think whatever they wanted. I wasn't a zombie going through the motions anymore. I was wide awake, and I was ready to show them exactly what I could do.