Zombie Mode at the Plate

I was operating on zero sleep—full zombie mode. Three nights of cramming for finals will do that to you. But when Maya texted 'come to the baseball game ;) I'll be there,' suddenly exhaustion didn't matter. I threw on my lucky hoodie, bolted down some spinach from the fridge (mom's health kick, whatever), and sprinted to the park.

Bad idea. The spinach, as it turns out, was not fully cooked. It was now wedged between my front teeth like a tiny green vegetable betrayal.

I spotted Maya in the stands. She waved. My stomach did that thing where it forgets how to be an organ. I tried to casually walk over, but my cat Buster had decided to investigate my backpack before I left and apparently clawed a hole in the side. My lucky hoodie—now featuring an unraveling thread that kept catching on everything—completed the look.

'Hey!' Maya said, smiling. 'You made it!'

'Yeah!' I said, flashing what I thought was a charming grin. 'Wouldn't miss it.'

Her face froze. Just for a second. But I saw it. She saw the spinach.

'So,' I said, desperate to recover. 'Big baseball fan, huh?'

'I guess,' she said, her eyes darting away. 'My brother plays. You?'

'Oh yeah,' I lied smoothly. 'Love the... baseball stuff. The balls and the bases. Very cool.'

She laughed. But not like, with me. Like, at me.

'You have something in your teeth,' she whispered.

I died. Right there. Freshman year anxiety crawled back from the grave where I buried it. I frantically tried to dislodge the spinach with my tongue while Maya pretended to be fascinated by the baseball game.

Then, out of nowhere, the mascot—a giant, dancing zombie—started doing pushups in front of our section because someone on the home team hit a home run. Everyone went wild. Maya jumped up, cheering.

I used the distraction to finally claw the spinach out with my fingernail. Classy.

'That was... something,' Maya said when she sat back down.

'I'm usually cooler than this,' I admitted. 'Like, significantly cooler.'

She smiled—a real one this time. 'You're funny though. And you came, even though you clearly haven't slept in a week.'

'Is it that obvious?'

'Dude, you have actual bags under your eyes. It's giving undead energy.'

'Zombie chic,' I said. 'It's a look.'

Maya laughed. And then—she moved her phone closer to mine on the bleacher seat. Not much. But enough.

'So,' she said. 'You want to get food after? Something that's NOT spinach?'

'Absolutely,' I said. 'No leafy greens. I promise.'

I was still exhausted. My hoodie was still unraveling. But as the baseball crowd roared and Maya smiled at me, zombie mode didn't feel so bad anymore.