Zombie Mode

I'd been operating on pure zombie mode for three weeks straight—finals will do that to you. My brain felt like it had been hollowed out with a spoon, replaced with nothing but calculus formulas and the periodic table I'd been staring at until 3 AM every night.

"You look like actual death," Marcus said, sliding into the cafeteria booth next to me. "Like, if there was an actual zombie apocalypse, you'd be the zombie they'd feel sorry for and not shoot."

"Thanks, dude. That's sweet." I poked at my mystery meat lunch. "I'm just running on fumes at this point. And this coffee tastes like someone brewed it through a gym sock."

My phone buzzed. Mom again. The sixth time today.

"Your mom's been blowing up my sister too," Marcus said, nodding at my screen. "Says you're avoiding her calls about something with your dad?"

I winced. The separation had been looming over our house like a storm cloud for months, but now it was actually happening—Dad was moving out next weekend. Neither of them wanted to talk about it with me directly, like I was still eight instead of almost seventeen. Like I couldn't handle knowing my family was falling apart.

"It's whatever," I muttered. "They're being weird about it. I'm just trying to survive finals week without losing it."

Marcus's sister, Chloe, dropped into the seat across from us, looking frantic. Her boyfriend Ethan—the one who'd been ghosting her all week—was standing awkwardly near the trash cans.

"You're gonna have to take the bull by the horns, Chlo," I said, surprising myself. "Either he's a massive tool, or he's going through something. But you standing here staring at him isn't helping."

Chloe's eyes widened. "Since when do you give relationship advice? You look like you haven't slept since the Obama administration."

"Since I realized avoiding problems just makes them worse," I said, my phone lighting up again. "Like, it's scary to face stuff head-on. But pretending it's not happening? That's worse."

Chloe took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched over to Ethan. Marcus looked at me with new respect.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just... you're right. About the scary stuff."

I looked at my phone. Mom calling again. I took a breath, squared my shoulders like Chloe had, and answered.

"Hey, Mom," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Let's talk. About everything."

Marcus fist-bumped me across the table as I stood up to find a quieter spot. Maybe my brain was fried, maybe I was running on zombie fumes and bad coffee. But sometimes, that's exactly when you find the guts to finally deal with the stuff you've been avoiding.