Zombie Mode Activated

The house party thumped with bass that vibrated through my chest. I leaned against the wall in what Kai called my zombie mode— glazed eyes, slumped shoulders, zero social battery remaining. For three hours, I'd been watching Jordan move through the crowd like she owned everything. She was such a fox in that red vintage sweatshirt, effortlessly commanding every room she entered while I was just background character #47.

"Dude, you need to eat something," Marcus said, shoving a weird orange slice in my face. "Try this papaya. My mom got it at that fancy grocery store downtown."

I stared at it dubiously. It looked like something that would judge me for existing.

"Not gonna lie, it looks suspicious," I said.

"Just try it, you culinary coward."

I took the smallest bite possible. It was... surprisingly okay? Sweet and tropical, completely unexpected.

"See? Your palate has EVOLVED," Marcus declared like he'd personally engineered my growth as a human being.

Then everything stopped. Someone tripped over the router cable by the TV. The WiFi died. The Spotify playlist cut out mid-song. Suddenly, nobody knew what to do with their hands. The zombie trance broke.

Jordan's cat Mango, who'd been hiding under the couch all night, chose that moment to make a dramatic entrance, meowing like we'd personally offended her.

Jordan groaned. "Mango, you have perfect timing, as always."

Before I could talk myself out of it, I walked over and sat on the floor next to her. Mango immediately abandoned her for me, curling up in my lap like I was her new favorite human. Jordan raised an eyebrow.

"She hates everyone," Jordan said, surprised. "You must have special cat whisperer powers or something."

"Maybe I'm just secretly comfortable," I said, and she laughed—not fake polite laughter, but actually laughed.

We ended up talking for two hours while everyone else awkwardly figured out how to socialize without the buffer of music and scrolling. About being weirdly anxious all the time, about how high school felt like performance art, about how we were both tired of feeling like zombies in our own lives.

"You're actually pretty cool, you know," Jordan said when her friends finally dragged her away.

"You too," I managed, trying to play it smooth even though my heart was doing backflips.

The cable got reconnected. The music came back. But my zombie mode was officially over.