The Zombie Padel Protocol

I looked like death, seventh period, on a Tuesday. The kind of zombie that walks into walls and forgets basic words like... uh... what's that thing with letters? Whatever.

"Dude, you need this vitamin supplement," Mateo said, sliding an orange bottle across the cafeteria table. "It's basically legal energy."

I stared at it. Last night's cable modem had died mid-TikTok doomscroll, leaving me awake until 3 AM staring at my ceiling like it owed me money. Now my eyes felt like they'd been rolled in glitter and rubbed with sandpaper.

"What's with the vitamins anyway?" I asked, popping the cap. "Since when are you the wellness guy?"

"Since Chloe invited me to padel with her crew this Friday." Mateo lowered his voice. "You know how competitive she gets. I need every advantage."

I nearly choked on my vitamin. Padel? With Chloe? The same Chloe who ran the school's social hierarchy like she was playing 4D chess while everyone else was stuck on tic-tac-toe? The girl whose laugh made even teachers straighten their posture?

"Bro," I said. "Padel? Really? Since when do you even play?"

"Since I started watching tutorials on YouTube when my parents' cable TV stopped working," he shrugged. "I've been practicing at the community center. It's actually lowkey fire."

I looked at Mateo—my best friend since third grade, back when our biggest worry was who got the blue crayon. Now we were navigating the minefield of high school social dynamics, where one wrong move could label you "cringe" until graduation.

"You want me to come with?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Obviously." Mateo grinned. "We can't let Chloe think she's better than us at everything. Plus, her friend Sasha will be there."

Sasha. The Sasha who I'd been lowkey crushing on since she'd complimented my dinosaur hoodie in September. The Sasha who somehow made looking like she'd rolled out of bed look like a deliberate fashion statement.

"I'm in," I said, feeling weirdly energized. Maybe the vitamins were already kicking in. Or maybe it was just the prospect of not spending another Friday night doomscrolling on my phone while my parents argued about cable packages in the other room.

"Good," Mateo said, checking his phone. "Because I just looked it up, and apparently padel is intense. We can't show up looking like zombies."

I laughed. "Too late for that."

But for the first time all week, I didn't feel like the walking dead. I felt like maybe, just maybe, high school wouldn't be completely terrible. Not if I had my best friend, a bunch of vitamins, and a racquet sport I'd never played.

Game on.