The Zombie Protocol

Maya tapped Jordan's shoulder for the third time. No response. Just that thousand-yard stare at the calculus textbook, highlighter hovering mid-air like a frozen weapon.

"Jordan? Earth to Jordan?" Maya waved her hand. "You've been studying for six hours straight. Your brain is literally gonna melt."

Jordan blinked slowly, like she was processing through lag. "I can't stop. Midterms are in two weeks. If I don't get at least a 94, my GPA drops and I can kiss Stanford goodbye."

"You're gonna turn into a zombie before college apps even drop," Maya said, pulling up a chair and sitting backward on it. "Remember when we used to actually do things? Like, human things?"

That's when Maya noticed it on Jordan's desk – a bright orange bottle she'd never seen before.

"What's that?" Maya pointed.

"Just some vitamin supplement my mom got me," Jordan muttered, already turning back to derivatives. "Supposed to help with focus and energy."

Maya grabbed the bottle and squinted at the label. "Jordan, this is literally just caffeine and B12. You're taking, what, four of these a day? No wonder you're vibrating."

"It helps me study, okay?"

"What helps you study is actually sleeping sometimes," Maya said, her voice softening. "Jordan, look at me. When's the last time you ate? Actually ate, not just choked down a protein bar while mut formulas?"

Jordan's silence was answer enough.

"I'm your best friend," Maya said carefully. "And I'm worried. This isn't sustainable. You're not a machine."

"Everyone else is doing it," Jordan said quietly. "Every single person in AP classes is running on caffeine and panic. It's just... how it works."

"Not everyone," Maya said. "And not you. You're brilliant, but you're also human. There's this whole conspiracy theory that the college admissions system is designed to turn us all into zombies – just grind through high school, sacrifice everything for numbers, and hope we survive long enough to actually enjoy our lives."

Jordan set down her highlighter. "So what's the alternative?"

"The alternative is we close the books," Maya said, standing up. "Right now. We go get actual food. We relearn how to conversation. And tomorrow, you talk to your mom about getting an actual study plan that doesn't involve poisoning yourself with fake vitamins."

"What about Stanford?" Jordan asked, like she was afraid to hope.

"Stanford will still be there if you get a 92 instead of a 94," Maya said. "But will you?" She held out her hand. "C'mon. I found this bubble tea place that opened downtown. My treat."

Jordan looked at the textbook, then at Maya. Then, for the first time in weeks, she actually smiled.

"Okay," she said. "But you're carrying my backpack."

"Deal." Maya grinned. "Let's go before you turn into a zombie for real."