Vitamin Zombies and Padel Dreams

I drag myself to the breakfast table, feeling like absolute death. My mom slides the orange bottle across the counter like she's serving me a prison sentence. "Your **vitamin** regimen, Carlos. Can't have you getting sick before finals."

I swallow the giant horse pill without water, already calculating how many hours of sleep I'll lose tonight studying. This is my life now: 16 years old and functioning on caffeine and spite, a total **zombie** shuffling through AP Chem and track practice.

"You coming to the courts today?" Marcus asks at lunch, already bouncing on his heels like he's vibrating. "Padel with Sofia's crew."

I freeze. Sofia. The girl who's been sitting two rows ahead of me in history since September, whose laugh I can identify across a crowded cafeteria. The girl I've barely spoken to because my brain short-circuits every time she looks my way.

"Yeah," I hear myself say. "Why not?"

The after-school reality hits me when we step onto the **padel** court. I've never played. Marcus is trying to teach me the basics while Sofia's group watches from the sidelines, probably mentally preparing their eulogy for my dignity.

"Just hit it, man!" Marcus yells as the ball sails toward me at approximately mach speed.

I swing the racquet like a baseball bat, missing completely and nearly faceplanting. Laughter erupts behind me—not mean laughter, but still. My face burns. This is it. This is my peak humiliation moment.

But then Sofia steps forward, all effortless grace in her athletic tank top. "Here, let me show you."

She demonstrates the grip, her fingers brushing mine for literally half a second that my brain records as A Significant Moment. "You're being all **bull**-headed about it," she says, grinning. "Relax your shoulders. It's not a fight, it's a game."

We play for hours. I'm terrible at first, but something shifts—maybe it's the endorphins, maybe it's Sofia's patience, maybe it's just finally doing something because I want to, not because it's on my college application résumé.

When she suggests we play mixed doubles next week, I nod like my life depends on it. Walking home, the vitamin bottle sits heavy in my backpack, but for the first time in months, I don't feel like a zombie anymore.