Vitamin Z for Zombie

Sixteen and running on three hours of sleep, Maya dragged herself through the cafeteria like a freaking zombie. First period Spanish had been a battle against her own eyelids, and now lunch was her only salvation.

Across the table, Leo was in full performance mode, holding court like he always did. "So then Tyler tries to tell me he can bench 185," Leo said, voice dripping with that special brand of teenage sarcasm. "Total bull. We all know his max is like 135 on a good day."

Maya snorted into her chocolate milk. Leo's impressions were ruthless, but that's why you loved—or loved to hate—him.

"You look like crap," said Jenna, sliding into the seat beside her. "Did you actually sleep last night, or were you doom-scrolling until 3 AM again?"

Maya fished a neon orange bottle from her backpack. "My mom literally bought these Adult Gummy Vitamins yesterday. Said I need more Vitamin D for my 'mental health.'" She air-quoted the last part so hard she nearly tipped her tray. "Pretty sure Vitamin G for 'Get Some Sleep' would be more useful."

The worst part? Her mom wasn't wrong. Between AP classes, volleyball practice, and the constant pressure to have her whole life figured out by age seventeen, Maya was barely holding it together. Sometimes she felt like a bear in hibernation mode, just trying to survive until summer.

"You know what's wild?" Leo said, suddenly serious. "My cousin's nineteen, graduated last year, and he says nobody actually has it together. We're all just faking it."

Maya looked at him—really looked at him. Behind the confident facade, Leo had the same exhausted eyes she saw in the mirror every morning. The same zombie-energy, the same bear-sized weight of expectations.

"Well," Maya said, popping a gummy vitamin that tasted suspiciously like artificial strawberry. "At least we're all miserable together."

Jenna laughed. "That's the spirit. Misery loves company."

They spent the rest of lunch making fun of Tyler's workout videos and arguing about whether cafeteria pizza counted as real food. And for the first time all week, Maya didn't feel like she was drowning. She had vitamins she'd actually take, friends who saw through the bull, and the realization that maybe—just maybe—nobody had to be perfect all the time.

Being a zombie was temporary. But this? This weird, chaotic, perfect moment? This was real.