The Zombie Padel Incident

I'd been moving like a zombie for weeks—seventh period fatigue, low-key brain-dead from finals, scrolling TikTok until 3 AM because sleep was for people with their life together. My hair looked like it, too: a bird's nest of curls that said, "I give up."

"You need to get out of the house," Kia said, dragging me toward the community center. "Padel tournament. There's gonna be cute people. You're welcome."

"I literally don't know how to play padel."

"That's the vibe. Just look mysterious and kinda troubled."

The thing about padel is that it's tennis but chaos—glass walls, the ball bouncing everywhere, people screaming "VAMOS" like their lives depended on it. I was awkwardly holding a racket when THIS PERSON walked in. Cameron. Hair that actually behaved, wearing that vintage soccer jersey that should've been illegal. They moved like they belonged in a Nike commercial.

My dog Buster chose that exact moment to escape my house and crash the tournament through the unlocked gate. Because of course.

"Buster! NO!" I yelled as he streaked across the court, stole a ball, and started playing keep-away with himself. The entire tournament stopped. People were laughing. I wanted to evaporate.

But then Cameron started laughing too—not mean laughter, but the genuine kind that crinkles their whole face. They chased Buster, got the ball back, and ruffled his ears like he'd just won Best in Show.

"Your dog has better moves than anyone here," Cameron said, walking over. Their eyes actually met mine. ME. The person who'd been functioning at like 40% capacity for three weeks straight. "I'm Cameron, by the way."

"Maya," I managed, hoping my hair wasn't doing something weird. "Sorry about the zombie interruption."

"Zombie interruption?" They raised an eyebrow. "More like the best part of the tournament."

We sat on the sidelines while Buster made new friends. Cameron showed me actual padel techniques (my hand-eye coordination was tragic, but they pretended otherwise). We talked about nothing and everything—school, music, how we were both low-key freaking out about next year.

"Your hair's cool," Cameron said suddenly. "It's got personality."

I almost fell off the bench. "It's a mess."

"It's alive. Unlike half the people here."

My phone buzzed—Kia, from across the court: 👀👀👀

"So," Cameron said, standing up and offering me a hand. "You wanna play? Or we can just keep busting moves with Buster."

I took their hand. "Pretend I know what I'm doing?"

"Always."

Maybe I wasn't so zombie after all. Maybe I was just waiting for the right kind of wake-up call.