Zombie State

The fifth period bell sounded like a funeral toll. Maya dragged herself through the hallway, feeling exactly like a **zombie**—one of those half-dead things from her brother's video games, arms outstretched, brain completely offline.

"You look rough," said Leo, falling into step beside her. His varsity jacket—the gold letters gleaming like he was some kind of god—made the whole social **pyramid** of high school feel incredibly real. "Big meet Friday?"

"Yeah." Maya's throat felt like sandpaper. "Coach has been **running** us into the ground this week."

"Literally and figuratively." Leo grinned. "Need some **water**? I've got practice too."

They ended up at the water fountain by the gym, which was basically neutral territory. Jocks, theater kids, stoners—everyone got thirsty. Maya's fingers found the shiny foil packet in her pocket. Her mom had pressed it into her hand that morning, eyes frantic.

"It's supposed to help," she'd said. "Focus, energy, everything."

Maya stared at the **vitamin** supplement packet. Neon orange letters promised ENDLESS ENERGY. Desperate times.

"What's that?" Leo asked.

"My mom's new thing." Maya ripped it open with her teeth. "She thinks I'm gonna collapse before regionals."

"Parents, man." Leo leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone. "My dad keeps sending me articles about how teenage brains are still developing. Like, thanks, I hadn't noticed I was literally unfinished."

Maya choked down the powder. It tasted like synthetic fruit and regret.

By sixth period, something shifted. The classroom walls actually seemed to breathe. Maya's notes became illegible scrawls—her hand couldn't keep up with her brain. Mr. Harrison's voice faded into background static as she stared at the back of Sarah's head. Sarah, who sat at the very top of the pyramid. Sarah, whose hair always looked perfect, who never seemed tired, who probably didn't need weird orange powder to feel alive.

Suddenly Maya stood up. The chair screeched. Everyone turned.

"Ms. Chen?" Mr. Harrison adjusted his glasses.

"I—I need air."

She practically ran to the courtyard, heart pounding, the world sharpening around her into something terrifyingly vivid. The grass was WAY too green. The sky was aggressively blue. Her own skin felt electric.

"Maya?" Leo found her by the bleachers, hyperventilating. "Yo, you good?"

"No," she gasped. "I think I'm having a heart attack."

"Nah, you're just having a moment." He sat beside her, surprisingly chill for someone who usually treated everything like a joke. "Welcome to the era of being absolutely done with everyone's expectations."

Maya laughed weakly. "Is this what growing up feels like?"

"Man, this is just Tuesday." Leo looked up at the sky. "My dad says being a teenager is basically a three-year panic attack between being a kid and being a real person. Which is bleak, but also kinda freeing?"

"Kinda." Maya's heart slowed. The electric feeling settled into something manageable. "Maybe I don't need to be perfect."

"Definitely not." Leo stood up, offered her his hand. "C'mon. Let's get you actual water. That stuff your mom gave you is definitely sus."