Zombie Mode

Maya had been operating on pure caffeine and anxiety for three days straight. AP exams, track practice, and her parents' divorce negotiations had turned her into a certified zombie. When her best friend Kenzie dragged her to Tyler's Halloween rager, Maya knew she'd be the living dead girl in a corner somewhere.

"You're literally going to have fun," Kenzie insisted, adjusting her fairy wings.

"I'm literally going to find the nearest snack wall and dissociate," Maya countered.

The party was already chaotic when they arrived—spilled punch, bass shaking the walls, people dressed as everything from vampires to vegetables. Maya immediately escaped to the backyard, where the air was cooler and the noise was muffled.

That's where she found the cat.

It was a scraggly black cat with one torn ear, sitting on top of the outdoor cooler like it owned the place. Maya approached slowly, and instead of running, the cat rubbed its head against her outstretched hand. Its fur was impossibly soft.

"You're just trying to escape the chaos too, huh?" Maya whispered. The cat purred like a tiny motorboat.

"That's Luna," a voice said behind her. Maya turned to see Tyler, who was somehow both taller and more awkward than she remembered. "She showed up last summer. Kind of adopted us."

"She's perfect," Maya said without thinking, then immediately wanted to dissolve into the grass. Tyler's costume—a zombie football player with torn jersey and fake blood—made her realize she'd just called the popular guy's cat perfect while looking like a zombie herself from exhaustion.

But Tyler just smiled. "Yeah, she is. You want to hold her?"

He passed Luna over, and the cat settled into Maya's arms like she'd known her for years. For the first time all week, Maya's shoulders dropped three inches.

"You look like you need this party about as much as I do," Tyler said, leaning against the cooler.

"I'm in full zombie mode, honestly," Maya admitted. "Three exams, two papers, and my mom moved out yesterday."

"Damn," Tyler said. "That's heavy." He didn't offer awkward platitudes. Just pulled a drink from the cooler and sat beside her on the patio furniture. "My parents are doing the 'we're staying together for the kids' thing, which is somehow worse. It's like living in a museum exhibit of a marriage."

They sat there for twenty minutes while Luna purred in Maya's lap, trading war stories about high school pressure and family mess. It was the most honest conversation Maya had had with anyone in months.

"Hey, let me see your hand," Tyler said suddenly.

"What?"

"Palm reading. My grandma taught me. It's nonsense, but it's fun."

Maya hesitated, then extended her palm. Tyler traced the lines with gentle fingers, his touch sending unexpected sparks up her arm.

"You've got a really long life line," he said, "but this heart line's all over the place. Complicated."

"Tell me about it."

"And here," he pointed to a small line branching off her headline, "this means you're going to surprise yourself soon. Do something completely out of character."

Maya looked at Tyler—really looked at him—and without overthinking it for once, she asked, "Like what?"

Tyler's dimples showed when he smiled. "Like maybe agreeing to get breakfast with me tomorrow? If you're not too busy being a zombie."

Luna chose that moment to headbutt Maya's chin approvingly. Maya realized her heart wasn't racing from anxiety for the first time in days. "I think I can fit that into my schedule."

Inside, the bass thundered on. Out here under the October moon, with a stray cat in her lap and a cute boy holding her hand, Maya finally felt alive again.