Zombie Mode at the Plate

I was officially in **zombie** mode—eyes crusty, brain foggy, surviving on three hours of sleep and pure anxiety. Today was the **baseball** championship. The one that mattered. The one that could get me noticed by scouts, or could end my middle school career on a pathetic note.

"Dude, you look dead," my best friend Leo said, tossing me his glove. "Even your **cat** got more sleep than you last night."

"Shut up," I muttered, but I smiled. Mr. Whiskers had kept me up batting at my face at 2 AM. Because of course he had.

Coach Miller blew the whistle. "Laps! Now!"

My legs felt like lead as I started **running**. Around the field, past the bleachers where she sat—Maya Rodriguez, writing in that beat-up notebook she always carried. She'd transferred here three months ago and I still hadn't worked up the nerve to say more than "hey." Pathetic.

"Faster, Carter! You move like my grandma!" someone yelled. The team laughed. I flushed.

After practice, Mom picked me up. "We're stopping for groceries. You need actual food, not whatever you've been eating."

The grocery store. The most embarrassing place on Earth. And there she was—Maya—examining a bag of **spinach** like it held the secrets of the universe.

"It's actually pretty good," I said, then wanted to die. Why did I say that?

She looked up, surprised. "The **spinach**? You like it?"

"I mean, my mom makes this salad with walnuts and—" I stopped. "Why am I telling you this?"

She laughed. And it wasn't a fake laugh. It was real.

"I saw you at practice," she said. "You're fast."

"I was literally the slowest one."

"Maybe. But you kept going when everyone else was complaining." She tucked hair behind her ear. "I like that."

My heart did something illegal.

"Good luck at the game," she said, walking away with her spinach.

I stood there like a complete **zombie**, but not from exhaustion this time.

At the plate, bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded. The **zombie** fatigue was gone. I saw Maya in the bleachers, notebook open. The pitcher wound up. I didn't think. I just swung.

Crack.

Game winner. Team rushing me. Coach crying. But I only looked at one person.

She was already writing something down, smiling.

Best day of my life. And yeah, I ate my vegetables at dinner. Sometimes change is good.