Zombie Mode at the Net

Maya's limbs felt like they'd been replaced with wet noodles as she dragged herself toward the padel court. The fluorescent lights of the sports complex buzzed overhead, matching the static in her brain. She'd been running on three hours of sleep and an iced coffee that had worn off hours ago.

"You look like you're operating on pure zombie mode, chica," Sofia said, falling into step beside her. "Midterms hitting you that hard?"

"Try AP Bio, AP Lit, and my mom's new obsession with my athletic career," Maya groaned. "She signed me up for this tournament at, like, the last possible second. Said colleges love 'well-rounded applicants.' Whatever that means."

The truth was, Maya actually liked padel—the way the ball cracked against the walls, the satisfying thwack of the racquet, the chaos of a game that refused to stay within neat lines like tennis. But between finals week, her friends' drama over who was dating whom, and the crushing weight of expectations that seemed to multiply daily, she was running on fumes.

Her mom appeared courtside, pressing something into her palm. "Take this. Your dad bought those gummy vitamins from that wellness influencer online. Apparently they're supposed to help with focus."

Maya looked down at the bright orange gummy shaped like a star. Because apparently, at seventeen, she still needed to be told to take her vitamins like a toddler. She almost rolled her eyes. Almost.

But then she caught the look on her mom's face—that weird mixture of pride and nerves, like she was living vicariously through every serve. And suddenly Maya couldn't be annoyed. She popped the vitamin into her mouth. It tasted suspiciously like artificial peach and desperate parenting.

"Thanks, Mom," she said, and meant it.

The match was chaos in the best way. Maya's opponent was some eighth grader who clearly hadn't been hit by puberty yet but moved like a caffeinated squirrel on espresso. They volleyed back and forth, the ball ricocheting off walls in unpredictable angles. Sweat dripped down Maya's back, her muscles burned, and for the first time all week, her brain wasn't thinking about college applications or GPAs or what she was supposed to be.

She was just there. In the game.

Match point. Maya's opponent sent the ball soaring toward the back corner. Something unlocked in Maya's legs—sudden, sharp energy. Maybe it was the placebo effect of that stupid gummy vitamin. Maybe it was just rage against the whole exhausting week.

She launched herself at the ball, racquet extended, and slammed it against the side wall. It bounced perfectly into the opposite corner, unreachable.

The whistle blew. Game point. Maya won.

Her arms shot up before she could think about it. Sofia was screaming from the sidelines. Her mom was already taking approximately five thousand photos for her aunt's WhatsApp chain.

And Maya? Maya felt something shift inside her. Not the zombie state she'd been in all week. Something else. Something real.

She caught Sofia's eye and they did their secret handshake—the one they'd made up in seventh grade and somehow still did, even though Sofia had straightened her hair and started wearing makeup and Maya had cut hers short and dyed it blue without asking anyone first.

People changed. That was the whole deal. That was the terrifying, beautiful mess of being seventeen. But some things? Some things stayed.

"You were insane out there!" Sofia said as they walked to the parking lot. "We're getting boba to celebrate. My treat."

Maya's phone buzzed—her mom, already texting about the next tournament. Usually, this was where Maya would feel the knot in her stomach tighten. The pressure. The expectations.

Instead, she just felt... okay. Tired, but okay. Like maybe she didn't have to have everything figured out. Like maybe being a half-exhausted, moderately talented padel player with a gummy vitamin addiction and too many AP classes was enough for now.

"Boba sounds perfect," Maya said. "But I'm not letting you pay. We're splitting it."

"Deal. But only if you promise never to wear that neon shirt to a tournament again. I saw you in pictures. You look like a highlighter."

"That's the point, Sof. That's literally the point."

The night air was cool. Maya's legs were starting to ache, her brain was foggy with exhaustion, and she had approximately three hours of homework waiting at home. But she also had a match win, a best friend, and a mom who believed in vitamins and believed in her.

Zombie mode or not, she'd take it.