Vitamin Z and the Art of Running

The gummy vitamin sat on my tongue like a tiny, orange-flavored judgment. My mom insisted they were essential for "growing brains," but at seventeen, I felt less like I was growing and more like I was becoming a zombie. The kind that shuffles through high school hallways, surviving on three hours of sleep and whatever caffeinated substance I can get my hands with my fake ID.

"You good, dude?" Marcus asked, sliding into the cafeteria seat opposite me. He was the only friend who'd actually noticed I'd been ghosting everyone for weeks.

I crushed the vitamin bottle in my hand. "Just tired. Calc test tomorrow, and my mom's been on my case about college apps."

Marcus nodded knowingly. "Classic. My parents are acting like the Common App is literally life or death. Like, chill—I'm applying to state schools, not Hogwarts."

I managed a weak laugh. Marcus had that effect. Even when I felt like a literal undead creature from binge-watching Netflix until 3 AM, his stupid jokes made me feel almost human.

The bell rang, signaling fourth period. We shuffled out, moving with the collective zombie energy of 400 exhausted teenagers. But outside, the sky was actually blue for once. Spring in the suburbs hit different sometimes.

"Wanna skip?" Marcus whispered, like we were discussing something criminal instead of just cutting pre-calc.

"And do what?"

"Running. My coach says I need more cardio for soccer, but honestly, I just need to not be in this building for an hour."

So we ran. Not away from anything specific, but toward something—toward the empty park behind the school, toward the wind that made my eyes water, toward the burning feeling in my lungs that meant I was actually alive and not just a zombie going through the motions.

We collapsed on the grass, chests heaving. Marcus pulled two gummies from his pocket. "Vitamin C boost. My mom's obsessed."

I took one, orange and squishy against my tongue. The sun warmed my face, and for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel like I was sleepwalking through my own life.

"Thanks," I said.

Marcus shrugged. "For what? The run? The gummy vitamin? For being your friend even when you're being weird?"

"All of it," I said. "Especially the friend part."

He grinned. "That's what friends are for, dude. Keeping each other from turning into actual zombies."