When Goldfish Die and Zombies Rise

Maya's alarm blared at 5:45 AM like it always did, and she dragged herself out of bed feeling like a literal **zombie**. Junior year was slowly killing her—one AP class, one track practice, one parental lecture at a time. Her mom stood by the kitchen counter, marble-sized orange pills lined up in military formation.

"Your **vitamin** D levels are dangerously low, Maya," her mom said, sliding the bottle toward her. "You're inside all day. You need sunlight or supplements."

Maya swallowed the pill without argument because arguing took energy she didn't have. Besides, her mom was right. Between school, track practice, and staying up until 2 AM studying, Maya hadn't seen actual sunlight since... she couldn't remember.

**Running** was supposed to be her escape, her "me time," but lately even the track felt like another cage. Coach Bennett kept talking about regionals, about colleges watching, about how this was "it" for her future. Her teammates were obsessed with Instagram followers and prom proposals. Everything felt performative.

"You good?" Jake asked, falling into step beside her during cooldown laps. Jake, who'd been her lab partner since freshman year. Jake, who she'd barely spoken to since he started hanging with the popular crowd.

"Just tired," Maya said, which was the understatement of the century.

"My **goldfish** died last night," Jake said out of nowhere.

Maya slowed to a walk. "What?"

"Bubbles. I've had him since fourth grade. My parents got him for me when I broke my arm." Jake stared at the track surface. "It's stupid, right? Crying over a fish?"

"No," Maya said softly. "I cried for a week when my turtle died in seventh grade."

They sat on the bleachers in comfortable silence, watching the sun paint the sky pink and gold. Jake talked about Bubbles, about how he'd fed him every day, how it was the one thing that stayed constant when everything else changed. Maya opened up about the pressure, about feeling like she was drowning in expectations, about how she missed just... being a kid sometimes.

"You know what's wild?" Jake said. "I have this huge chemistry test tomorrow, and all I can think about is how Bubbles is gone. Like, life's short, and we're spending it being **zombie**s for grades that won't matter in five years."

Maya laughed, and it felt good. "The **vitamin** D pills are supposed to help with energy. Maybe they're just placebos."

"Or maybe we just need to stop **running** from everything and actually live," Jake said, standing up and extending a hand. "Wanna skip practice? Go get breakfast?"

Maya looked at his hand, then at the track stretching out before her. For the first time in months, she didn't feel like a zombie at all. She grabbed Jake's hand and smiled.

"Absolutely."