The Wellness Apocalypse

I pushed through the crowded hallway, dodging sophomore zombies glued to their phones, their dead eyes scrolling TikToks at lightning speed. Another typical Monday at Creekwood High, where everyone moved like they were underwater—exhausted, overcaffeinated, completely checked out.

'You look like a walking corpse,' said Jordan, falling into step beside me. 'Did you even sleep last night?'

'Thanks, bestie,' I rolled my eyes. 'Just tired from the meet. Coach had us doing intervals until 8 PM.' I subconsciously touched my hair—still damp from my rushed morning shower, frizzy and uncooperative as always. 'Plus, I think I'm coming down with something. My mom's making me take these massive vitamin C tablets that taste like chalk mixed with regret.'

Jordan laughed, their perfectly styled purple waves somehow defying physics. 'You need to stop killing yourself for swim team. You're literally becoming one of them.' They gestured at a group of students shuffling past, faces illuminated by phone screens.

I wanted to snap back something defensive, but they weren't wrong. I'd been feeling like a zombie for weeks—swimming through fog, going through motions, my hair a constant reminder of how little energy I had for anything besides training and homework. It was always tangled, always thrown in a messy bun because I couldn't bother.

The bell rang, and we groaned in unison.

'Hey,' Jordan said, 'skip practice today. Come over after school. We'll do face masks and deep conditioning treatments. Live a little.'

For the first time in months, I didn't argue. And as I walked into first period, something shifted. Maybe it was the promise of actual self-care, maybe it was those ridiculously large vitamin tablets finally kicking in, but for the first time in forever, I didn't feel like I was underwater anymore.

The zombies were still out there, still scrolling and stumbling through the halls. But at least for today, I wouldn't be one of them.