The Zombie in the Snapback

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, adjusting the snapback for the third time. It was backwards because that's what YouTube tutorials said was cool, but I felt like I was wearing a costume. A really uncomfortable one.

"Ethan, come take your **vitamin**!" My mom's voice cut through my existential crisis.

I grabbed the orange pill from her outstretched hand, swallowing it dry. Another day, another attempt to reinvent myself. My phone buzzed – three new messages from the group chat that I was too afraid to answer.

The bus ride was torture. My brain was operating on two hours of sleep and pure anxiety, basically a **zombie** searching for connection. Why did I stay up until 3 AM watching those videos about how to be popular? Now I was just tired.

Maya Chen sat two rows ahead. She was wearing this oversized vintage jacket that made everything else look basic. I'd been crushing on her since seventh grade, which was basically forever. Today, I told myself, today I would finally speak to her.

The bus jerked to a stop and I stumbled, accidentally knocking into her seat. Her phone slid onto the floor.

"Sorry!" I yelped, lunging for it. We both reached down, our hands brushing.

"Ethan, right?" She smiled, and my stomach did that thing where it forgets how to organs. "Nice **hat**."

I waited for the sarcasm. For the giggle from her friends. But her eyes were genuine.

"Thanks," I managed, my voice cracking. "It's new."

"Works for you," she said, and something in my chest unlocked.

The rest of the day blurred through geometry and lunch, where I actually sat with people instead of alone at the edge of the cafeteria. When Maya waved at me in the hallway, I didn't freeze up. I waved back.

That night, I tossed the snapback onto my desk. It was just a hat, but it was also the first step toward becoming someone I actually liked. Tomorrow I'd take my vitamin and show up again. Maybe being a teenager wasn't about figuring everything out at once. Maybe it was just about showing up.