Zombie Mode at the Plate

I looked like a zombie. No, scratch that — I looked like a zombie who'd been hit by a truck and then dragged through seventh period algebra. Three hours of sleep would do that to you.

"You good, Marcos?" Leo asked, knocking back his Gatorade like we weren't sitting in the bleachers of the most important baseball game of the season. Bay Area High vs. our rivals. Everyone who was anyone was here.

"Yeah. Just tired." I adjusted my fitted cap, trying to look less dead inside.

The truth? I'd spent all night overthinking whether to finally DM Jessica — the Jessica, who sat three rows down, currently laughing at something that wasn't even funny. My brain was fully zombie mode. functioning on zero capacity, just shuffling through the motions.

Then Leo's grandma handed me a Tupperware container. "Try this, mijo. Papaya salad. I made it special."

I stared at it.Chunks of bright orange fruit flecked with chili flakes and lime. The most un-baseball food imaginable.

"It's... actually good?" I said after the first bite. Sweet, spicy, weirdly refreshing. Like, suspiciously good.

"Told you." Leo grinned. "Jessica's grandma makes the same one. That's how they bonded at that multicultural fest last month."

My zombie brain perked up. Wait. WHAT.

"You're telling me," I said slowly, processing this new intel, "that Jessica — the girl who wears designer everything and has actual opinions about artisanal coffee — eats papaya with chili flakes?"

"Bro, she literally has some in her lunchbag right now."

Something shifted. My exhausted brain locked onto this like it was the coordinates to life itself. I wasn't some awkward, sleep-deprived nobody anymore. I was someone who knew something real about her.

I stood up, zombie mode fully deactivated.

"Where are you going?" Leo asked.

"I'm gonna go sit by Jessica and ask if her grandma's papaya recipe is better than yours."

"Bold strategy." Leo raised his eyebrows. "What if you choke?"

"Then I choke." I headed down the bleachers, heart racing, feeling weirdly grateful to Leo's grandma and her bizarre papaya salad. "But at least I won't wonder what if."

Behind me, the baseball game continued — someone hit a home run, the crowd went wild — but I was already walking toward something that felt like it might actually be worth losing sleep over.