The Zombie Spy of 3B

Maya felt like a zombie. Third period AP Calc had that effect—turning perfectly functional teenagers into glassy-eyed, caffeine-dependent creatures of the night. She slumped against her locker, letting her head thunk against the metal door.

"Rough morning?" Zara asked, flipping her perfectly curled hair. Maya's crush since seventh grade, now seemingly lightyears away in the social stratosphere.

"You have no idea." Maya clutched her iphone like a lifeline. The screen showed 47 unread messages from the group chat she'd been ghosting since Zara's party on Friday. The party where she'd overheard Zara making fun of her old sneakers.

Her cat, Beans, would've judged her for caring this much. Beans judged everyone—the mailman, her neighbors, especially that suspicious delivery guy who always looked like he was casing their apartment building. Speaking of suspicious...

Maya noticed something weird. Every time she opened Instagram, Zara posted a story exactly seventeen seconds later. Not normal behavior. Not unless Zara was watching her activity.

A sudden realization hit Maya like a bucket of ice water. Zara wasn't just popular—she was checking up on Maya. constantly.

"Hey," Maya said, approaching Zara after school. "Are you... tracking my socials or something?"

Zara's face flushed pink. "What? No. That's creepy."

"Then how do you always post right after I check your profile?" Maya raised an eyebrow.

Zara sighed, looking down at her shoes. "I have your notifications on, okay? Because I was waiting for you to notice me. Since Friday, I've been trying to fix things, but you won't reply to anyone. My friends think you're mad at the whole group."

Maya blinked. "You... what?"

"I made fun of your shoes because I was nervous," Zara admitted. "I think your sneakers are actually kinda cool. Vintage, you know?"

The zombie sensation evaporated, replaced by something warm and fluttery in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as invisible as she thought.