The Zombie Apocalypse of Junior Year

I was basically a **zombie** by third period, shambling through the halls of Northwood High with my hoodie up and my will to live at approximately 12%. Junior year was absolutely eating me alive, and I was just trying to make it to winter break without completely losing my mind.

My best friend Riley caught up to me at my locker, practically vibrating with energy. "Dude, you look dead. Again."

"Thanks, Riley. Really feeling the love today."

"No, for real though." She reached into her backpack and pressed something into my palm. "My mom's all into that holistic wellness stuff now. Take this **vitamin** D supplement. She says literally everyone in our age group is deficient because we never go outside."

I stared at the little gel capsule like it might contain the secrets to the universe. "You think my problems can be solved with vitamins?"

"Can't hurt, right? Besides, you've been moping around since—well, you know." She lowered her voice. "Since Jordan started sitting with the theater kids at lunch."

I winced. Jordan. The human equivalent of a golden retriever in human form. We'd been lab partners freshman year, and I'd been lowkey **spy**-ing on their Instagram stories ever since, trying to figure out if they were even remotely into me, but then they'd joined the drama club and suddenly seemed to exist in a completely different social stratosphere.

"I'm not moping," I protested. "I'm just... processing."

"You're pining, Alex. It's painful to watch." Riley checked her phone. "Speaking of painful things, did you finish Mr. Harrison's essay? I heard he's making people **bear** their souls in front of the whole class today. Something about 'authentic storytelling' or whatever."

I felt my stomach drop. "I have to read mine out loud? In front of everyone? Including Jordan?"

"Unless you want to take a zero and tank your GPA before college applications..." Riley grimaced sympathetically.

The bell rang. I swallowed the vitamin – what did I have to lose? – and headed to English, feeling slightly nauseous. Mr. Harrison's classroom smelled like old books and despair. Jordan was already there, laughing at something one of the theater kids said, looking effortless and radiant and completely unbothered.

"Alex! You're up!" Mr. Harrison called out way too cheerfully.

I walked to the front of the room on legs that felt like jelly. My essay was about feeling invisible, about the tiny deaths we experience when we're too scared to say what we really mean. I started reading, my voice shaking, and somewhere in the middle, I accidentally made eye contact with Jordan.

They weren't looking at their phone. They were looking at me. Really looking. And when I finished, hands shaking, Jordan was the first one to clap.

"That was... really good," Jordan said afterward, catching me at my desk. "I didn't know you wrote like that. It's like you actually get it."

"Get what?" I managed, my heart doing something embarrassing in my chest.

"The zombie thing. The feeling like you're just going through motions. I feel like that too sometimes." Jordan smiled, and it was different from their usual stage-presence smile. Smaller. Realer. "Hey, some of us are going to study at that café on 4th after school. You should come."

Maybe it was the vitamin kicking in. Maybe it was the universe finally throwing me a bone. But for the first time in months, I didn't feel like the walking dead.

"Yeah," I said, already reaching for my phone to text Riley. "I think I will."