Zombie Mode

I was in full zombie mode—hoodie up, headphones blasting, shambling through the hallway like the walking dead. Third period AP History will do that to you.

"Yo, Maya!" Marcus called, falling into step beside me. "You good? You look like you haven't slept since, like, Tuesday."

"Haven't," I muttered. "Track practice meets exam week equals zero hours of sleep." I'd been running myself into the ground lately—literally and figuratively. State qualifiers were two weeks away, and my coach was pushing me harder than ever.

Marcus was my best friend since sixth grade, back when we bonded over stolen snacks from the cafeteria. But lately? Something was off. He kept checking his phone at weird times, laughing at texts he wouldn't show me, ducking into bathrooms mid-conversation.

"So," he said, too casual, "you hanging out at Jake's party Friday?"

"Probably not. Coach said if I don't place at regionals, I can kiss varsity goodbye."

"Right. Right." He nodded way too fast. "Cool, cool."

That's when I saw it—his phone screen lit up with a notification. A DM from @thatgirld Maya, which was weird because that was my finsta. The one only, like, three people knew about.

Wait. WHAT.

"Marcus," I stopped walking. "Why are you getting notifications from my private account?"

He froze. "I—what? No I'm not."

"I literally just saw it, bro. Are you ghost-following me?"

"It's not—" He scrubbed his face. "Okay, look. I made a fake account. Just to check in."

"To check in?" My voice went up. "You've been, what, spying on me?"

"No! I mean, yes, but—you never talk to me anymore!" He actually looked upset. "It's always track, track, track. I was just trying to figure out what's going on with you."

"So you stalk my finsta?"

"I was worried!" He ran a hand through his hair. "You post all this stuff about being stressed and overwhelmed, and you never tell me any of it. I'm your best friend, Maya. I found out you were thinking about quitting track through a finsta post. How messed up is that?"

I stared at him. He was right—I HAD been posting about everything online instead of actually talking to people. I'd been treating social media like my diary, then getting mad when people read it.

"I'm sorry," I said finally. "I've been so caught up in everything, I just—I didn't know how to talk about it."

"So you posted it for strangers instead?"

"I guess." I shrugged. "Lowkey easier when there's no expectations."

"Well, stop." He grinned, the old Marcus returning. "I'm right here. You can just tell me stuff. I promise not to screenshot it and put it on your private story."

"You're literally the worst."

"But I'm YOUR worst." He bumped my shoulder. "Now come on, we're gonna be late. Also, you need sleep. You look terrible."

"Love you too, bestie." I started walking again, feeling a little less zombie-like and a little more human.

"Hey," he said after a minute. "After practice today? We can study. I'll even bring those gross protein bars you like."

"Deal." I smiled. "But you're not allowed on my finsta anymore."

"Fair." He winked. "I'll just make a NEW one."

"MARCUS!"

He took off running, laughing, and I sprinted after him. For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel like I was running away from anything.