The Zombie Who Finally Woke Up

Maya's hair was supposed to be perfect. That's what her Instagram said, anyway. She'd spent two hours this morning curling it into these effortless-looking waves that actually required, like, a million tons of effort. But by third period, the humidity had turned her masterpiece into something resembling a poodle that had just stuck its paw in an electrical socket.

"You look fine, you drama queen," whispered Jace, who'd been her best friend since they were five and he accidentally glued his hand to a craft stick.

"Jace, my hair is literally defying gravity. How is this fine?"

He shrugged. "At least you didn't accidentally call Mr. Henderson 'dad' again today."

Maya groaned and let her head thud against her desk. "Stop. I'm trying to erase that from my memory. It's been three years and he still gives me that look."

The truth was, Maya felt like a zombie most days. Not the cool kind from Netflix shows with the tragic backstory and impressive survival skills. No, she was that NPC kind of zombie, just walking through school with her phone practically glued to her palm, doomscrolling through everyone's highlight reels while her own life felt like one long continuous buffering screen. Swipe, double-tap, compare, repeat. She was basically existing on autopilot, letting other people's expectations run the show while her actual personality sat in the back corner of her brain watching sadly.

Her parents wanted Harvard. Her friends wanted the girl who always said yes. Her social media wanted perfection. Maya just wanted to sleep for like, a week straight.

That afternoon, she found herself running behind the school building because her younger brother Leo had texted her that their dog, Buster, had escaped again during pickup. Because that's just how her life worked.

"BUSTER!" She sprinted across the parking lot, her carefully curated waves now completely destroyed. "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME"

The chaos continued when Buster suddenly spotted a squirrel and bolted toward it. Desperate, Maya scrambled after him, her phone flying out of her sweaty palm and landing in a patch of mud with a gross splat.

But then something weird happened. She actually caught the dog. And as she sat there in the grass, hair everywhere, phone probably ruined, socks muddy, her little brother giggling so hard he was practically crying, Maya realized something:

This was the most alive she'd felt in months.

"You look insane," Leo said, still laughing. "Like, actually unhinged."

Maya looked at her reflection in her cracked phone screen. Her hair was a disaster. Her entire aesthetic was ruined. And for some reason, she started laughing too.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I kind of do."

Maybe being a zombie wasn't mandatory. Maybe she could actually be present for her own life.