Zombie at the Plate

Marco dragged himself to first period feeling like a straight-up zombie. Three straight days of **baseball** practice followed by late-night gaming sessions would do that to you. His dad had left a bottle of **vitamin** D supplements on the counter with a sticky note: "For energy, mijo." Whatever. Down the hatch.

At lunch, Sasha slid into the seat across from him, sliding a weird orange fruit slice onto his tray. "Try this. It's **papaya**."

Marco eyed it suspiciously. "Is this exotic or just suspicious?"

"Just eat it, weirdo." Sasha's laugh hit different lately — lighter, freer. Ever since she'd come out as bi last month, she was glowing. Confidence looked good on her.

The papaya was actually fire. Sweet but not too sweet, kind of like if a melon and a mango had a glow-up.

"So, Jordan's pool party tonight," Sasha said, casual as anything. "You going?"

Marco's stomach did that thing. Jordan, the team captain, had finally invited the freshman benchwarmer. This was it — his shot at moving up from Backup to Potential. "Yeah. I think so."

"Perfect. Pick me up at seven?"

They ended up at the **pool**, chlorine heavy in the humid evening air. Everyone was there, the cool kids from the team, the seniors Marco had been watching from the dugout all season. Jordan waved him over, shirt off, confidence radiating like actual sunshine.

"Marco! Finally joining the big leagues," Jordan called out. "Tomorrow's sectionals — you ready to **play** or what?"

Marco froze. The water reflected all these people he'd been trying to impress for months. He thought about the zombie fatigue, the pressure, the constant feeling of being one out away from striking out.

But then Sasha grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the diving board. "Race you to the other side."

He dove in.

The water shocked him awake. Somewhere between that first cool shock and surfacing at the other end, gasping and grinning while Sasha complained he'd cheated, Marco realized something. He wasn't the backup anymore. He wasn't just some exhausted zombie kid trying to keep up.

He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

"You're buying me papaya tomorrow," Sasha said, splashing water in his face. "As punishment for winning."

"Deal."

Sometimes the most important hits aren't the ones that clear the fences. Sometimes they're just learning how to dive into the deep end.