The Zombie Spy Protocol

Maya's brain felt like it had been put through a blender on the "liquify" setting. Three AP exams in two days would do that to a person. She was practically a zombie at this point—shuffling through the hallways, surviving on caffeine shots and desperate prayers to any deity who might be listening.

"Dude, you look undead," said Liam, sliding into the seat across from her at their usual lunch table. "Like, actual zombie vibes. No offense."

"None taken," Maya mumbled, resting her forehead on the cool cafeteria table. "I have achieved maximum crustiness."

But something was off. Liam was being too nice. Too attentive. And Maya—despite being ninety percent zombie—noticed things. She'd noticed how Liam had been texting someone constantly all week. How he'd canceled their study session yesterday. How he kept glancing at his phone like it held the secrets to the universe.

So Maya did what any sleep-deprived, paranoid teenager would do.

She became a spy.

Operation: What Is Liam Hiding began during sixth period. Maya "accidentally" walked past his locker three times. She positioned herself strategically near the water fountain when his friend group convened by the bleachers. She even created a fake Instagram account to stalk his followers—okay, that part sounded creepy when she said it out loud, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

By Friday, she'd compiled a mental dossier: Liam was definitely hiding something. He'd been meeting up with Sarah from chemistry (traitor), carrying around a suspiciously wrapped package, and had skipped track practice twice.

The truth came out Saturday night when Liam texted her: "Can you come over? I need to tell you something."

Maya's heart hammered against her ribs as she walked to his house, her spy brain running through worst-case scenarios. Was he moving away? Did he secretly hate her? Was he...

"Maya," Liam said, opening the door, looking more nervous than she'd ever seen him. "I'm, uh, really bad at this stuff."

He led her to his room where the suspicious package sat on his desk—a wrapped gift box.

"Your birthday's next week," Liam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been working on this forever, but I kept screwing it up, so I had to start over like five times. That's what I was hiding."

Inside was a scrapbook he'd made—a collection of their friendship since seventh grade. Photos, ticket stubs, notes they'd passed in class, little inside jokes that only they would understand. On the last page, in Liam's messy handwriting: "To my best friend. Thanks for being there through all my awkward phases."

Maya felt something crack open in her chest—this warm, overwhelming thing that made her eyes sting.

"I literally thought you were plotting against me," she laughed, wiping her eyes. "I've been spy-ing on you all week like a total psycho."

Liam grinned. "You? A spy? Please. You're the least subtle person I know."

"Hey! I'm an excellent spy. I figured out you were hiding something, didn't I?"

"You figured out I was being a good friend," he corrected, bumping her shoulder with his. "Zombie brain finally cleared up?"

Maya smiled, the weight of the week lifting off her shoulders. "Yeah. Yeah, it has."