Zombie Mode

I've been **running** on empty since seventh period yesterday—literally and figuratively. Track practice until five, homework until midnight, then Maya texts me at 2 AM with her latest crisis about whatever boy she's obsessing over this week.

"You look like **zombie** apocalypse bait," Chloe remarks, sliding into the cafeteria booth across from me. She pushes a neon orange bottle across the table. "Take this. My mom says it's basically magic **vitamin** stuff for tired people."

I stare at the bottle. "Is this revenge for me telling you that your crush looks like a thumb?"

"No, it's because you're my best **friend** and you look deceased." Chloe's being dramatic, but not wrong. I catch my reflection in the cafeteria window—dark circles, messy bun, the whole aesthetic.

The truth is, I haven't been sleeping because everything's changing. Maya's deep in her popular kid phase, Chloe's joining every club imaginable, and I'm just... here. **Running** in circles, literally, on the track team where I'm decent but not great. Good enough to make varsity, bad enough to never win first place.

"You know what's stupid?" I say, popping the **vitamin** bottle open. "I keep waiting for things to feel different. Like, real high school different. But I'm still just me, just tired."

Chloe shrugs. "Maybe that's the point. We're all just **zombie** teens wandering through the hallway, pretending we know what we're doing." She pauses. "Also, I saw Maya crying in the bathroom earlier."

My stomach does that thing it does when I know I should care but I'm too exhausted to process emotions. "Again?"

"I think she needs you. Even if she's been acting weird."

I look at the vitamin in my hand, then at Chloe, who somehow manages to be both chaotic and the most grounded person I know. "Fine. But if she starts talking about Ethan's hair again, I'm actually going to die."

"Deal." Chloe grins. "Now come on, we're gonna be late for bio. And you should probably stop **running** from your problems."

"That's rich coming from someone who hid in the locker room for a week to avoid Mr. Harrison."

"Touché." She loops her arm through mine as we walk toward the science wing. "But hey, at least we're **zombie**ing through it together."

I laugh, and for the first time all week, I don't feel quite so dead inside.