The Zombie in Orange

Maya's dad called it her zombie state—the way she shuffled through high school with headphones on, barely present. Today was worse. She'd spilled orange soda on her favorite white shirt, leaving a neon blotch right on her stomach that shouted "I don't have my life together."

At lunch, Sarah's clique sat at their usual table, discussing weekend padel tournaments like it was the Olympics. Maya caught fragments of conversation—smashes, lobs, how Emily's parents had installed a private court at their summer house. Meanwhile, Maya picked at the spinach leaves in her salad, pretending she wasn't invisible.

"Hey," someone said. Maya looked up. It was Liam from chemistry, sliding into the seat across from her. His dad owned the cable company everyone complained about.

"Nice shirt," he said, and for a second Maya thought he was being sarcastic, but then he grinned. "I like orange. It's brave."

They talked about nothing important—teachers who assigned too much homework, the zombie apocalypse movie marathon Liam had hosted last weekend, how Maya's mom still made her eat spinach even though she was sixteen. For the first time all year, Maya didn't feel like she was walking through school in a daze.

When Sarah's group walked past, Maya almost ducked instinctively. Instead she laughed at something Liam said, loud and genuine. Sarah glanced back, just for a second, and Maya thought: she actually noticed me today.

Later, walking home with orange-stained shirt and Liam's number in her phone, Maya realized the zombie state was self-inflicted. She'd made herself invisible by choice.

Tomorrow she'd wear the orange shirt again. Maybe she'd even try that padel clinic Sarah kept talking about. Either way, she was done playing dead.