Zombie Mode Activated

Maya collapsed onto her bed, Diesel—her ancient, farting **cat**—immediately claiming her stomach as his personal throne. The AP Bio textbook lay open, pages blurring together as she scrolled through TikTok instead. Classic senioritis, amplified by the crushing weight of college applications and the fact that Lucas had barely looked at her all week.

"You're literally operating on, like, 2% brain function," her best friend Priya had texted earlier. "Full zombie mode."

And honestly? Priya wasn't wrong.

**Zombie** mode had become Maya's default state since homecoming—since that awkward almost-moment with Lucas near the punch bowl, where he'd said something about her "really getting him" and she'd responded with a weirdly enthusiastic comment about his **dog**, Buster, because apparently that was her brand now: making everything about everyone else's pets instead of, you know, actual human connection.

Her phone buzzed. Lucas: wanna hang at my place later? Buster misses you

Maya stared at the ceiling, heart doing that embarrassing fluttery thing. Diesel purred against her ribs, completely unbothered by his human's romantic crisis.

She grabbed her backpack, checking her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles under her eyes (zombie vibes, obviously), but whatever. Lucas wasn't exactly winning any beauty contests either with those neon blue hair dyed three weeks ago that was now sort of greenish at the roots.

At his house, they sat on the floor while Buster—a chaotic golden retriever mix—alternated between licking Maya's face and knocking over Lucas's soda cans. They watched zombie movies, which was either deeply ironic or perfect, she couldn't decide.

"You're not like other people," Lucas said suddenly, during the movie's boring exposition scene.

Maya's stomach did a flip. "In a good way or a bad way?"

"In a way that makes me forget I'm supposed to be cool and unbothered." He laughed, kind of nervous. "Buster sensed it immediately. That **dog** has better intuition than I do."

Maybe zombie mode wasn't so bad after all. Sometimes the undead found their way back to life, and sometimes seventeen-year-olds figured out how to be brave without overthinking it into oblivion.

"Yeah," Maya said, and for the first time in weeks, she felt actually present. "I'm cool with that."