Zombie Mode at the Plate

I'm totally rocking zombie mode after pulling an all-nighter for Mr. Harrison's chem test. My cat Luna decided to go full explorer at 3 AM, scratching at my window like she'd discovered a portal to Narnia. So now I'm standing at the baseball field, watching my crush Tyler at his varsity game, running on pure adrenaline and a breakfast that was basically just anxiety.

"You look like you died three days ago," says Jordan, my best friend since kindergarten, sliding onto the bleacher beside me. She's wearing her signature oversized hoodie and somehow still looks aesthetic.

"Rude but accurate," I mutter, watching Tyler adjust his batting gloves. He's at home plate, looking unfairly good in his uniform. "If I don't pass this chem test, my mom's going to ground me until I'm thirty."

Mr. Harrison—aka The Bear, because he literally growls when he's disappointed—had threatened us with a "surprise practical" on Monday. I'd spent the entire weekend memorizing periodic tables instead of, you know, having a life.

Suddenly, Luna bolts across the outfield. My cat. At a baseball game. Because apparently my life is a comedy now.

"No way," Jordan breathes.

Tyler winds up for the pitch while Luna crouches near third base, tail twitching like she's planning something diabolical. The pitcher releases. Tyler swings. CRACK. The ball sails into center field—right where Luna is stalking a butterfly.

Luna leaps. The center fielder dives. Chaos erupts.

I'm already halfway down the bleachers because I am NOT dealing with animal control today. Luna bolts toward the parking lot with me in awkward pursuit, my converse slapping against pavement while half the stadium watches.

I finally tackle-scoop her near the snack stand, my face burning hotter than the sun. When I look up, Tyler is standing there, still in his cleats, holding a half-eaten bag of popcorn.

"So that's your cat?" he asks, grinning. "She's got better moves than their center fielder."

I will my cheeks to stop being a literal fire hazard. "She's... adventurous."

"Wanna hang after the game?" He tilts his head. "I know a place that has the best milkshakes. And I promise not to let Luna escape."

My zombie heart does a full backflip. "I'd... I mean, yeah. That sounds amazing."

Jordan gives me the eyebrows from the bleachers. I ignore her.

As I walk back with Luna purring in my arms like she didn't just cause a scene, I realize maybe zombie mode isn't so terrible. Sometimes the most chaotic, exhausted versions of ourselves have the best stories.

And okay, maybe a little bit of luck helps too.