Zombie Mode

The goldfish had been dead for three days before Maya noticed. That's kind of how her junior year was going—everything important happening while she walked through life like a zombie, functioning on autopilot.

She stood before the bowl on her dresser, watching its motionless body float near the plastic castle. Her dad had won it for her at a carnival last summer, back when she still thought things could be simple. Back before she'd transferred to Northwood High and realized that being the new girl at sixteen was basically a social death sentence.

"Maya! You're gonna be late for the padel tournament!" her mom yelled from downstairs.

Padel. The sport everyone at Northwood was obsessed with. The reason she'd joined the team in the first place—because apparently, if you wanted to survive junior year, you needed a thing. And padel was supposed to be her thing.

Except she sucked at it.

She grabbed her racket and headed out, the goldfish still floating in its bowl, another thing she'd failed to keep alive.

At the courts, the cool kids were already there. Chloe, with her perfect ponytail and Actually Good outfit, laughing at something Tyler said. Tyler, who'd looked right through Maya when she'd introduced herself on day one.

"Yo, Maya, you good?" said Riley, the only person who'd spoken more than three words to her since she'd transferred. "You look, like, mad tired."

"Zombie mode," Maya muttered. "Stayed up way too late scrolling."

Relatable. That was good. Relatable was safe.

The coach blew the whistle. "Pair up for drills!"

Maya's stomach did that thing it always did before something humiliating was about to happen. She scanned the court, but everyone was already paired up. Except Chloe, who was standing alone near the net, looking annoyed.

Maya walked over, racket feeling like a foreign object in her hands. "Hey, wanna—"

"You play?" Chloe asked, not mean, just genuinely curious.

"Not really," Maya admitted. "I joined because my mom thought it would help me... I don't know, integrate?"

Chloe laughed, but not in a mean way. "Same. My dad thinks padel is going to be my 'ticket to social success.' Which is hilarious because I literally have no hand-eye coordination."

They stood there for a second, and Maya realized something: nobody here actually knew what they were doing. They were all just faking it, trying to survive junior year without looking like total losers.

"My goldfish died this morning," Maya found herself saying.

"Weird thing to lead with, but I respect it," Chloe said. "What was its name?"

"I never named it. I was scared I'd get attached and then it would die."

"Bold strategy to avoid pain," Chloe said. "Does it work?"

Maya thought about it. "No."

The coach blew the whistle again. "Alright, let's play!"

They stepped onto the court, terrible at padel but strangely okay with it. And for the first time since transferring to Northwood, Maya didn't feel like a zombie. She felt like someone who might make a friend, even if she couldn't return a serve to save her life.

Later that night, she'd flush the goldfish down the toilet and cry a little. But right now, she had a padel game to lose, and possibly a friend to make.