Zombie Mode

I was functioning on two hours of sleep and three espressos, basically a zombie shuffling through first period. My brain felt like it was buffering, stuck at 47% loading while Mr. Henderson droned about quadratic equations. I'd stayed up way too late doomscrolling — again.

Then Sophia caught my eye from across the room, adjusting her signature black beanie. That hat was basically her trademark at Northwood High. She was typing furiously on her phone under her desk, looking totally sus. I'd been lowkey spying on her social media for weeks now, ever since she'd posted that cryptic story about feeling invisible. I knew it was creepy, okay? I couldn't help myself.

"You good?" whispered Marcus, my lab partner, sliding me a tangerine from his backpack. "You look dead."

"Thanks, appreciate that," I muttered, but accepted the orange anyway. Peeling it gave my hands something to do besides awkwardly fidgeting while stealing glances at Sophia.

Then the impossible happened. Sophia walked over to my desk after the bell rang, her orange hair — which she'd dyed over the weekend, apparently — catching the fluorescent light.

"Hey," she said, suddenly standing right there. "I noticed you noticed me on insta. And I wanted to say... thanks? For liking my posts when literally no one else did."

My zombie brain short-circuited. She knew?

"You're not as subtle as you think," she added with this fox-like grin that was equal parts amused and genuine. "Wanna sit together at lunch? I've been eating solo since my friends ditched me for being 'too weird.'"

Maybe my zombie-like state had something to offer after all — or maybe being awkwardly observant wasn't such a terrible trait. I grabbed my backpack, suddenly way more awake than I'd been all morning.

"Totally," I said, and for the first time in forever, I didn't feel like I was faking it.