Zombie Mode Activated

I looked like a zombie. Dark circles under eyes that had seen way too many 3 AM study sessions. Finals week at Northwood High was wrecking me, and I was only on day two.

"You look dead," Jayden commented. "Like, actually undead."

"Thanks, bestie. Really boosting the confidence before my chem final."

Mrs. Hernandez sighed. "Mila, honey, you need a vitamin. Or maybe twelve. Have you been sleeping?"

"Sleeping is for people who aren't failing pre-calc."

By lunch, I was fully zombie mode—shuffling between classes on caffeine and desperation. Cross-country practice wasn't my escape either.

"Rodriguez, what is this?" Coach Martinez called as I practically crawled through intervals. "You're running like you're carrying a piano."

"Just tired, Coach."

"Regionals are next week." He handed me neon-orange supplements. "Take these. And sleep."

The run home took forever. That's when I saw her—a tiny calico on a garden wall, watching me.

The cat hopped down, winding through my legs. I sat on the sidewalk. She curled in my lap, purring so loudly it reset something in my brain.

"You don't care about my GPA, or regionals," I whispered.

She head-butted my hand.

"Mila? Why are you sitting on the sidewalk... talking to a cat?" My mom slowed down.

"It's fine, Mom."

"You're burning out, mija," she said softly. "It's okay to not be perfect."

I stared out the window. I'd been running myself ragged trying to be the perfect student, athlete, friend. A random cat on a Tuesday was the reality check I needed.

The next morning, the cat waited outside our front door.

"You know I have a calculus test, right?"

She purred and knocked her head against my shin.

"Fine. Five minutes."

When Coach asked why I was smiling during practice, I shrugged.

"Cat therapy, Coach. You wouldn't understand."

Finals week was still stressful. But at regionals, running toward the finish line feeling strong instead of empty, I spotted her watching from the sidelines.

Zombie mode deactivated. Finally.