The Zombie Who Couldn't Blend In

Maya's cafeteria tray held exactly three items: a sad **papaya** slice that looked like it had seen better days, **spinach** that was definitely not cooked with enough garlic, and an **orange** that had seen better weeks. She adjusted her beanie—the one with the tiny embroidered pumpkin on the side—trying to make herself invisible.

"You're going as a zombie AGAIN?" Chen's voice cut through the lunchroom noise. "That's literally what you wore last year."

Maya's face burned. "It's different this time."

"Is it?" He popped a grape in his mouth. "Because your costume is just you, with pale makeup and ripped clothes. AGAIN."

The truth was, Maya loved zombie stuff. The makeup, the lore, the aesthetic—but Chen was right. She'd recycled the same basic idea since seventh grade because it was safe. Because if she leaned too hard into what she actually liked—like her collection of vintage horror movie posters or her secret obsession with special effects makeup—people would definitely think she was weird. And wasn't being weirdly into zombies already weird enough?

Her phone buzzed. *Can u bring extra papaya? Mom forgot to buy more—Lila*

Maya stared at the text. Her little sister was currently in full Dia de los Muertos face paint mode, helping their abuela set up the ofrenda at home. The papaya was for the altar. Suddenly, Maya felt like the biggest loser.

Lila was nine and already completely unapologetic about who she was. Meanwhile, Maya was sixteen and still agonizing over whether Chen would think her zombie costume was basic.

"You know what," Maya said, standing up so fast her tray clattered. "You're right."

She grabbed her **hat**—a proper wide-brimmed thing she'd thrifted last year but never worn because she'd thought it was too much—and stomped toward the exit, leaving her mostly-uneaten lunch behind.

"Wait, where are you going?" Chen called after her.

"To figure my life out," Maya yelled back.

By Friday, Chen wasn't laughing anymore. Maya showed up to the Halloween dance as an undead Catrina—full Dia de los Muertos skull paint, flowers woven into her hair, that wide-brimmed hat, and a dress their abuela had helped her alter. She'd spent two nights getting the special effects just right, blending everything she loved into something completely hers.

Chen just stared. "Okay, that's actually kind of sick."

"Thanks," Maya said, grinning so wide her skeleton makeup cracked. "I know."