The Zombie Who Couldn't Even

Maya's hair was doing that thing again—that frizzy halo that made her look like she'd stuck a fork in an electrical outlet. She yanked her beanie hat down harder, but the damage was done. Everyone in the cafeteria would see.

"You look like a zombie," said Jax, sliding into the seat across from her. "Rough night?"

Maya groaned. "Studying for chem. Also, my cat decided 3 AM was the perfect time to reenounce his hunting instincts on my toes. I'm running on, like, negative sleep."

"That's valid." Jax grinned. "At least you don't have Mr. Henderson's class next. He grades like his dog just died—even when you did everything right."

The bell rang, and Maya gathered her stuff, already dreading fourth period. Her hair kept escaping the hat in these weird little tendrils, like it had a mind of its own. Sometimes she felt like her whole body was betraying her—skin breaking out, voice cracking when she got nervous, hair that refused to cooperate. It was exhausting.

But then she caught her reflection in a locker mirror. The frizz wasn't that bad. Actually, it kind of looked... intentional? Like she'd deliberately gone for this wild aesthetic. Jax was right—she did look a little undead, but maybe in a cool,Tumblr-girl way.

Whatever. If she was going to be a zombie today, she'd be a confident one.

Maya pulled off the hat and shook her hair out. The cat scratches on her arm were visible, the dark circles under her eyes were real, and she'd definitely forgotten to put on deodorant. But Jax waved at her from down the hall, grinning like an idiot, and for the first time all day, she didn't want to disappear.

"Love the hair," he called out.

Maya actually smiled. Being a zombie wasn't so bad if you had people who didn't mind hanging out with the undead.