Zombie Mode

Maya spent forty-five minutes on her hair that morning, twisting her curls into perfect ringlets that bounced when she walked. Her mom had chopped fresh papaya for breakfast, the sweet tropical scent filling their tiny apartment, but Maya was too nervous to eat. Today was her first day at Northwood High, and she was already sweating through her favorite orange tank top.

"You look beautiful, mija," her mom said, pressing a papaya slice into her hand anyway. "Eat. You'll need brain power."

"Brain power sounds like zombie food, Mom," Maya laughed, the anxiety in her chest loosening just a little.

By third period, Maya was already in full zombie mode, dragging herself through the hallway when her stomach let out the loudest growl in human history. The cute boy with the messy hair and ripped jeans at the locker next to hers definitely heard it. His name was Leo, apparently.

"Rough morning?" he asked, popping a piece of gum in his mouth.

"You could say that," Maya muttered, feeling her face burn.

"Listen," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "there's papaya in the cafeteria today if you're into that weird fruit my grandma's always talking about. But fair warning—it looks like zombie guts."

Maya snorted. "How do you know what zombie guts look like?"

Leo winked. "I've been preparing for the apocalypse since seventh grade."

Something shifted in Maya's chest, warm and bright. By lunch, she was sitting across from Leo and his friends, laughing so hard at his terrible zombie apocalypse jokes that her perfect curls were frizzing out like crazy. And when he reached across the table to steal a piece of her papaya, his hand brushing against hers, Maya decided that maybe—just maybe—being herself, messy hair and all, was actually pretty cool.