The Zombie Center Fielder

Maya pressed her phone against the locker, heart racing as she hit record. Her older brother Jake had been acting weird all week—groggy, sluggish, barely speaking. Like a zombie. And Maya, being the overprotective little sister she was, had appointed herself personal spy.

"Jake?" she whispered, following him to the kitchen. He moved like he was underwater, grabbing a Gatorade with zero enthusiasm. "You okay? You seem... dead."

"Fine," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Just tired from baseball."

Baseball. Right. The thing that used to light him up, make him bounce around the house narrating his plays. Now? Now he came home from practice and collapsed on the couch, eyes glazed.

"Let me come watch your game today," Maya offered casually. "I'll bring snacks."

Jake hesitated. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," she insisted. "Consider it your personal fan club."

The bleachers were packed when they arrived. Maya positioned herself strategically behind the backstop, phone ready. If something was wrong with Jake, she'd catch it on camera. Proof. Evidence.

Then she saw him.

Jake stood in center field, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. His shoulders slumped. His glove dragged in the dirt. When a fly ball came his way, he jogged after it lazily, missing the catch completely.

The groans from the crowd were brutal. "What's wrong with Jacobs?" someone hissed. "He's playing like a zombie out there."

Maya's stomach twisted. She kept filming as Jake struck out twice, barely swinging. As the game dragged on, she noticed something: he kept rubbing his temples, wincing at loud noises, squinting like the sun was physically painful.

After the final out, she cornered him by the dugout.

"Jake, what is ACTUALLY going on?"

He looked ready to brush her off again, but then his shoulders dropped. "I got a concussion last week. I didn't tell Coach because I didn't want to lose my starting spot."

Maya's mouth fell open. "You're playing with a CONCUSSION? Are you insane?"

"I know, I know," Jake said miserably. "But I need this scholarship, Maya. I can't—"

"You literally can't if you're BRAIN DAMAGED." She grabbed his arm. "We're telling Mom and Dad. Now."

Jake started to argue, then stopped. "Yeah. Okay."

Maya deleted the spy footage. She didn't need proof anymore—she needed to get her brother to a doctor.

"You know," Jake said as they walked to the car, "you're really annoying when you care."

"You're welcome," Maya shot back. "Also? You're benched until I say otherwise."

He laughed for the first time in a week. "Deal."