Zombie Social Climbing Protocol

I was basically a zombie by third period, running on two hours of sleep and an iced coffee that had gone lukewarm. Freshman year was eating my brain, one AP class at a time.

"You look like death," Maya said, sliding into the seat next to me. "Rough night?"

"Studying for that chem test. Also Tyler kept texting me at 2 AM." I rolled my eyes. "Apparently being a 'friend' means responding to existential crises at ungodly hours."

Maya snorted. "The drama llama strikes again. What did he want?"

"He thinks Sarah's mad at him because she didn't laugh at his joke in homeroom. I told him that's bull—she probably just didn't hear him. But no, he's convinced it's some personal attack."

The cafeteria buzzed with overlapping conversations and the smell of overcooked pizza. I stared at the social hierarchy in front of us—the jocks at their usual table, the theater kids scattered near the windows, the seniors who acted like they owned the place. The whole pyramid scheme of high school dominance, and we were somewhere near the bottom, clinging to the middle like our lives depended on it.

"You know what's funny?" Maya said, following my gaze. "My sister says none of this matters after graduation. Like, at all. She ran into Kyle—that guy who was basically prom royalty last year—at the grocery store, and he's working the register now. She said he looked completely different."

"That's oddly reassuring and depressing at the same time."

"Right?" She cracked a smile. "Oh, by the way—did you hear about Jordan?"

"What about him?"

"He went full fox on Mr. Harrison's pop quiz today. Apparently he figured out the answers were hidden in the chapter headings, like spelled out sideways or something. Harrison was so impressed he gave everyone bonus points."

I stared at her. "That's actually genius. The only genius thing I've done all week is remembering to charge my phone."

"You'll survive." Maya checked her phone. "Speaking of survival, are you coming to the game tonight? Everyone's going."

The truth was, I'd rather stay home and scroll through TikTok until my brain turned to mush. But that's not what you say when you're trying to climb the social pyramid, one rung at a time.

"Yeah," I said, already regretting it. "I'll be there."

"Perfect." Maya grinned. "Just don't go full zombie on me again. You need at least four hours of sleep to function like a normal human being."

"I'll try for five."

"Ambitious. I love it."

We both laughed, and for a second, the pyramid didn't seem so steep, the exhaustion didn't feel so heavy, and I remembered that high school, with all its bull and drama, was survivable. Mostly because you didn't have to do it alone.