The Zombie Who Couldn't Die

Maya's #zombie makeup was absolutely fire — green foundation, hollowed-out eyes, fake blood dripping down her chin. She'd spent three hours on the tutorial, but somehow she still felt invisible. Literally invisible, because she was hiding in the bathroom at Tyler's Halloween rager, third cup of lukewarm punch in hand, listening to muffled bass shake the floorboards.

Outside, the party was absolutely living — everyone living their best lives, while Maya felt like an actual undead NPC in someone else's game. She'd come as a zombie because it felt ironically appropriate. Junior year had her feeling like the walking dead anyway: AP classes killing her vibe, college apps looming like a storm cloud, and her crush on Jordan somehow surviving despite her literally never speaking to them.

Then lightning struck — literally. A crack of thunder shook the house, lights flickered, and someone screamed. Maya burst out of the bathroom, zombie makeup streaking, straight into Jordan.

"Whoa, nice #zombie," Jordan said, grinning. They were wearing a ridiculous oversized top #hat, like they'd raided a magician's closet from 2004. "You've been hiding in there all night."

"Yeah, I'm just... really committed to the character," Maya lied, wiping fake blood from her chin. "Zombies don't socialize."

Jordan laughed. "Fair. This #hat is my social crutch. Figured if I looked ridiculous enough, nobody'd notice I'm awkward as hell."

Another lightning flash illuminated Jordan's face — and Maya realized they were nervous too, fidgeting with the hat's brim, eyes darting around like they'd rather be literally anywhere else.

"Wanna go stand on the porch?" Maya suggested before she could overthink it. "Zombies and magician rejects can weather the storm together."

"Bet." Jordan's smile was genuine now.

They sat on the porch steps watching lightning carve the sky open, Maya's zombie makeup smudged and Jordan's stupid hat knocked sideways by wind. For the first time all night, Maya didn't feel dead at all. She felt electric. Sometimes the scariest part wasn't the makeup or the storm or the party — it was taking off the mask and letting someone see you underneath, zombie fake blood and all.