Zombie Mode: Off

Sixteen-year-old Maya shuffled into homeroom feeling like actual zombie roadkill. Third night this week she'd crashed at 3 AM scrolling through perfectly curated lives while hers felt like a glitching simulation. Her mom had thrust a bottle of gummy vitamins at her that morning with that concerned look Maya hated, like she was fragile or something.

"You joining the new padel club?" Chloe asked, sliding into the desk beside her. Chloe, who made everything look effortless, whose highlight game was unmatched, who probably didn't need vitamin supplements because she naturally radiated sunshine.

"Pfft, no," Maya lied, though she'd secretly signed up online at midnight, desperate for something—anything—that wasn't doomscrolling through other people's highlights. " sports aren't really my... vibe."

But somehow there she was after school, standing on a court with a racquet that felt alien in her hands. The PE teacher had everyone pair up, and naturally Maya got stuck with Jason—the same Jason whose cable management setup she'd accidentally knocked loose at his house party last month while trying to find an outlet. The one who'd given her that look that said, wow, you're awkward incarnate.

"So," Jason said, bouncing a ball. "You play?"

"Define play," Maya muttered, heart doing that anxious flutter thing.

Twenty minutes later, something weird happened. Maya's brain stopped overthinking. She wasn't worrying about her post performance or whether she looked cool or if Jason remembered The Cable Incident. She was just—moving. Smashing. Actually laughing when she tripped over her own feet and Jason snorted, but like, in a nice way.

"Not bad for a zombie," Jason said, and for once it didn't feel like an insult.

Maybe it was the endorphins. Maybe her mom's vitamin gummies were actually magic. Or maybe Maya had just forgotten what it felt like to try something new and not instantly hate herself for being bad at it.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asked, and Jason nodded.

Maya walked home feeling weirdly light. Like she could actually handle being sixteen in this timeline. Maybe zombie mode wasn't permanent. Maybe she could just—exist. Imperfectly, messily, but actually present.