Zombie Mode Activated

6:45 AM. My alarm screams like a dying cat, and I drag myself out of bed feeling like actual roadkill. Mom's already in the kitchen, holding out the orange bottle like it contains the antidote to my existence.

"Your vitamin, sweetie! Can't have you getting sick before regionals!"

I choke down the chalky monstrosity, grab my gym bag, and head to the pool. The parking lot's already packed with cars from the rival schools—this is it, the championship meet that determines everything.

In the locker room, Maya's at the mirror fixing her hair for the tenth time. Because apparently, when you're Maya Chen, three-time state champion and absolutely gorgeous, your hair has to be perfect even when you're about to spend two hours chlorinated.

"Your eyeliner's smudging," she tells me, not unkindly.

"Because I've been swimming since the sun came up," I shoot back, but I'm secretly grateful she noticed me at all.

Coach blows the whistle, and we hit the water. This is my element—where the awkwardness dissolves, where I don't have to worry about whether my ponytail looks stupid or if anyone noticed me staring at Maya during calculus. Here, it's just stroke, kick, breathe, repeat.

Forty laps later, Coach yells, "LAST ONE. GIVE ME EVERYTHING."

My arms are burning. My legs are screaming. I'm in full zombie mode now, operating on pure adrenaline and maybe those vitamins actually kicking in. I push harder, lungs screaming, water stinging my eyes.

I touch the wall, gasping, and look up at the board.

Personal best. By three seconds.

Maya's waiting at the edge of the pool, water dripping from perfect hair that somehow still looks amazing. "That was insane," she says. "We should grab food after. My treat."

"Like... actual food? Not chlorine-flavored?"

She laughs, and suddenly the zombie feeling fades. Maybe being sixteen isn't so terrible after all.