Zombie mode at the party

Maya tugged her dad's old trucker **hat** lower, hoping it would act as a social camouflage. This was her first real high school party, and honestly? She was regretting everything.

Inside, everyone moved like synchronized dancers while Maya felt like a glitch in the matrix. Her **iPhone** buzzed constantly in her pocket – her group chat blowing up with "WHERE ARE YOU" and "OMG JAKE IS HERE" – but she couldn't bring herself to join the chaos. Social battery: dead. She was straight-up operating in **zombie** mode, nodding at people she barely knew, smiling when it felt appropriate, meanwhile screaming internally.

"Hey, want some?" Some senior offered her a slice of something that looked suspiciously like fruit.

"What is it?"

"**Papaya**," he said, like that explained everything. "My mom's obsessed with tropical stuff. It's actually pretty lit."

Maya took a bite. It tasted like someone had crossed a melon with soap. "It's... interesting?"

"**Bull**." He laughed. "You hate it. I can tell."

Something about the way he called her out made her actually laugh. For real.

"Okay yeah, it's gross," she admitted. "Why are you eating it then?"

"Trying to be cultured for this girl I'm into," he shrugged. "Clearly working."

They ended up talking for like, an hour – about how fake high school could feel, about how everyone pretended to have their life together when honestly? Nobody knew anything. Maya realized the hat hadn't been hiding her at all. She'd just been hiding herself.

Her phone buzzed again. She ignored it.

"You wanna bail?" the guy asked. "There's a taco truck down the street. Actual good food."

Maya pushed the hat back and smiled for real this time. "Hell yes."