The Zombie Apocalypse of Seventh Period

My blue hair fought back. Three hours in the bathroom, bleach burning my scalp, and now I looked like a rejected Smurf. The bathroom mirror showed exactly what I deserved for attempting DIY highlights during a zombie movie marathon.

"You look... bold," Maya said, barely looking up from her iPhone as we walked to padel practice. Her thumbs moved at lightning speed, probably texting Ryan about how I'd officially lost my mind.

"Bold is good. Bold is confident." I adjusted my backpack, trying to hide the orange-ish disaster that used to be my hair. "Bold is what happens when your cousin's a licensed cosmetologist who's 'totally certified online' but actually just watches too many TikTutorials."

The padel courts were packed. Ryan was already there, looking unfairly athletic in his navy jersey. My stomach did that thing where it forgets how to food.

"What's up with the hair?" someone called out. A freshman. I froze.

"Trying something new," I managed, my voice squeaking like I was still in middle school. Great. Now I looked crazy AND sounded like a pubescent chipmunk.

Maya finally looked up from her phone. "It's actually kinda cool once you get used to it. Like, very alternative vibe."

Ryan jogged over. "You ready for our match?"

My cat thinks I'm cool. That's what I told myself. Pancake would NEVER judge my hair. Pancake would probably purr and knock over a water bottle because that's her love language.

"So ready," I lied, ignoring how my palms were sweating through my racket grip. "Let's crush these zombies."

"Zombies?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"You know. Like, opponents who are dead inside." I gestured vaguely at the other team. "From staying up all night watching apocalypses happen on Netflix."

He laughed. Actually laughed. "You're weird."

"Weird like 'I'm never speaking to you again' weird or 'we should maybe grab boba after this' weird?"

"We'll see how you play first." He tossed me a ball.

The blue hair didn't matter. The pancake-cat back home didn't matter. My iPhone buzzed in my pocket—probably my mom asking how practice went—but I didn't check.

I slammed that ball across the court and felt, for the first time all week, completely alive.