The Zombie Hair Chronicles

I'd been a zombie for three days straight. Finals week will do that to you — turn you into something that shuffles between classes, exists on caffeine and spite, and definitely does not get enough sleep. My mom had left those neon-orange vitamin gummies on my desk every morning like some passive-aggressive health reminder, and I'd been aggressively ignoring them because who has time for immune system support when AP Bio is actively destroying your soul?

Tonight was the swim team banquet. The social event of the season. And my hair looked like it had been styled by a particularly chaotic tornado.

"You look... tired," Maya said from my doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. She was already dressed — sleek black dress, perfect curls, actually hydrated human being. "Jordan's gonna be there."

"I know he's gonna be there, that's why my hair is currently staging a rebellion." I gestured at the frizzy disaster situation happening on my head. "It's like it sensed my anxiety and decided to match the energy."

She laughed. "Just wear it curly. It looks good that way."

Easy for her to say. Her hair didn't have identity crises.

I slumped at my desk, catching my reflection in the mirror — definitely still in full zombie mode, dark circles and everything. That's when I spotted the vitamin gummies. On impulse, I downed three of them in rapid succession. What did I have to lose? Maybe they'd magically fix my skin, or my hair, or my entire personality before tonight.

By the time I got to the banquet, I felt weirdly better. The gummies probably hadn't kicked in yet, but I'd curled my hair and it actually looked decent for once. And there was Jordan, across the room, looking unfairly good in a button-up.

"Hey," he said, appearing beside me with two cups of punch. "You look... alive tonight."

"Thanks, I think?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No, I mean — you've seemed pretty dead this week. Finals kicking your butt?"

"You have no idea. I've been basically zombie walking through everything."

"Well," he said, "whatever you did differently today, it's working. Your hair looks great."

I laughed, feeling something warm and unclench in my chest. Maybe it was the vitamins. Maybe it was Jordan actually noticing me. Maybe it was just surviving the week from hell.

"Thanks," I said. "I think I finally remembered to take my vitamins this morning."

He grinned. "Whatever it was, keep doing it."

I took a sip of punch, watching the room swirl with laughter and music. Some weeks turn you into a zombie. Some days your hair does its own thing. But sometimes — just sometimes — you take your vitamins, curl your hair, and actually show up to things feeling okay.

And that's enough.