Zombie Glow

Maya's curls had been fighting a losing battle against humidity all day. By seventh period, her normally neat coils were frizzing into something that suggested she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Which, honestly, she might as well have done—at least then she'd have an excuse for how dead she felt inside.

"You look like a zombie," Chloe whispered during AP Bio, sliding her a note. Maya scribbled back: LITERALLY ME. Three hours of sleep will do that to a person.

The 5K charity Zombie Run was in two hours, and Maya had somehow let Chloe talk her into signing up. "It's for a good cause!" Chloe had said. "Plus, there's gonna be boys from North High there."

Maya wasn't thinking about boys. She was thinking about how her legs already felt like jelly from track practice yesterday, and how she'd somehow managed to schedule her period for the same weekend as a race where people literally chased you with fake blood.

"Your hair is gonna be a disaster if it rains," Chloe pointed out as they walked to the starting line. "Like, apocalyptic disaster."

"Thanks, Chloe. Really feeling the confidence."

But then the sky opened up. Not a drizzle—a full-on downpour, the kind that happens when you're already having a day and the universe decides to make it worse.

And then something weird happened. Maya started running.

Her hair went wild—springing up in every direction, shrinking into tight coils, completely free. Water dripped down her face, ruining her makeup, but for the first time all week, she didn't care. Something broke loose in her chest, some tight knot of expectations and perfectionism she'd been carrying since freshman year started.

She passed a group of North High boys. One of them—tall, with kind eyes and the world's worst zombie makeup—grinned at her. "Your hair is literally amazing."

Maya laughed. Like, actually laughed, not fake smiled. The zombie actors stumbled toward them with theatrical groans. Maya's friend Lila squealed and grabbed Maya's hand, and they sprinted together through the rain, hair everywhere, clothes soaked, makeup ruined, absolutely not caring.

"We look insane!" Lila shouted over the thunder.

"We look alive!" Maya yelled back.

And for the first time in months, she actually did. Even with her hair doing its own thing, even with blisters forming on her heels, even with Chloe complaining about her mascara running, Maya felt something shift. Maybe perfection wasn't the point. Maybe being a little messy—maybe being a LOT messy—was okay.

Maybe zombies were just people who'd forgotten how to let themselves fall apart once in a while.

At the finish line, the cute zombie boy handed her a water bottle. "You were fast," he said. "And seriously—that hair."

Maya wrung out her sodden curls and grinned. "I'm starting to see the appeal."