Zombie in a Beanie

Maya pulled her dad's old fishing **hat** down over her ears, the brim shielding her from judgment—or at least from having to make eye contact with the seniors crowding the hallway. It was day three of freshman year, and she was already operating on autopilot, a total **zombie** after staying up until 2 AM scrolling through threads about how everyone else had their life figured out.

"Earth to Maya," Jenna said, snapping her fingers. "You alive?"

"Barely," Maya mumbled. "My mom's got me on these new gummy **vitamin** D things because apparently I never see sunlight."

Jenna laughed. "Same. Anyway, lunch? The caf's doing that nasty **spinach** wrap again."

Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when food came up—the tightness, the mental calorie calculation, the weird guilt spiral. "I'm good. Not hungry."

She escaped to the library, where she could breathe. Pulled out her phone and stared at the background: her **cat**, Mochi, giving maximum side-eye. Mochi didn't care if Maya ate or if she was awkward or if she spent entire weekends overthinking a single conversation with a lab partner who probably didn't even remember her name.

The bell rang. Maya adjusted her hat, her armor. She'd survive this. Eventually, the zombie-brain would fade, the vitamins would kick in, and she'd figure out who she was supposed to be. For now, she just had to get through fifth period without anyone noticing she was still learning how to exist in her own skin.