The Zombie from Left Field

The cafeteria was a minefield, and today, Marcus was walking through it with literal spinach in his teeth. I could've told him—I should've told him—but we'd only been friends for two weeks, and there's a whole unspoken hierarchy about who's allowed to point out food in someone's teeth. Freshmen generally don't get to call out seniors, even when those seniors are the chillest guys on varsity baseball.

I met Marcus during tryouts. I'd been warming up in the outfield, trying to look like I belonged, when he'd jogged over and started tossing me lazy practice pitches. His form was trash, but he had this easy energy that made me less terrified about embarrassing myself in front of the coach. We spent the next hour talking about nothing—video games, teachers, why the school pizza was legally allowed to be called cheese—and by the time tryouts ended, we'd somehow made plans to hang out.

Now here he was, sitting at the popular table, laughing at something Chloe said, completely unaware that every time he smiled, he was flashing green debris like a trophy.

I felt like a zombie watching from my spot across the room—not the cool kind from movies, but the actual awkward, shuffling, barely-holding-it-together kind. That's what junior year does to you. It eats your brain and leaves you moving through the halls on autopilot, halfway dead from sleep deprivation and social anxiety.

Outside, lightning cracked across the sky, sudden and brilliant—a whole flash-photography moment from the universe. Everyone turned to watch the storm roll in.

Marcus looked over at me and caught my eye. He smiled.

I raised my hand and gestured vaguely at my own teeth.

His eyes widened. He mouthed "thank you" and wiped it away, then laughed. He didn't look embarrassed. He just looked relieved, and then he did something that made my stomach flip—he waved me over.

Some moments aren't about lightning strikes or cinematic transformations. They're just about spinach, and someone who doesn't make you feel small for telling them the truth. I grabbed my tray and walked toward their table, not shuffling at all.