The Zombie Princess

Maya's first real party. Her older cousin's backyard bash, the kind where the bass shook windows three houses down. She'd spent forty minutes on her eyeliner, trying to look chill instead of terrified. The oversized dad **hat** pulled low hid her shaking hands anyway.

"You good, cuz?" Jason asked, appearing beside her with red solo cups. "You look like you're about to audit our taxes or something."

"I'm good," Maya lied, smooth as sandpaper. "Just vibing."

He snorted. "You're vibing so hard you haven't moved from this corner since you got here. Here." He pressed a cup into her sweaty **palm**. "Apple juice. I figured you'd be sneaking out anyway, didn't want to explain to my mom why her thirteen-year-old nephew was drinking."

Maya's face burned. "I'm fourteen, and I wasn't—"

"Chill, I'm messing with you." His grin softened. "Wanna meet people? Or you gonna **bear** it out here all night?"

The crowd shifted. Someone shouted "AYO ZOMBIE PRINCESS IN THE HOUSE" and a girl pushed through, makeup deliberately smudged, thrifted dress artfully torn. She looked like she'd been **zombie**-walked through a thrift store apocalypse and Maya had never wanted to be anyone more.

"That's Raven," Jason said, following Maya's stare. "Senior. Theater kid. She's been doing her makeup like that since seventh grade. Lives for the drama." He lowered his voice. "Don't try to impress her with that **bull** about how mature you are for your age. She'll eat you alive."

Raven caught Maya's eye and winked. Maya's stomach did something gymnastic. She could be chill. She could be interesting. She adjusted her hat and straightened up, suddenly six inches taller.

"Watch me," she said, already walking toward the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. "If I crash and burn, at least it'll be legendary."