Zombie State of Mind

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping. She wiped them on her dress—stupid move, now there were little damp patches right on her hips. "Chill, Maya," she whispered. "You're not about to commit a crime. You're just going to talk to him."

Jordan from AP Chem. The one with the hazel eyes and the laugh that sounded like he was in on a joke nobody else got. He was by the snack table, currently being cornered by Hannah, who'd been subtly spying on his Instagram stories for weeks. Maya knew this because Hannah had broadcast her findings in their group chat like she was running a full-blown investigation.

"His favorite color is orange," Hannah had typed at 2 AM. "He posted a sunset three weeks ago. Case closed."

Maya grabbed an orange soda from the cooler. Classic props. She'd been in zombie mode all week—dead-eyed through classes, scrolling TikTok until 3 AM, barely existing. This party was supposed to be her reentry into actual human society. Her friends had planned it like a mission: Operation Don't Be Weird.

She made her way across the backyard, past the palm tree that everyone at school called "The Palm of Doom" because three people had crashed into it during various parties. The June heat pressed against her skin, thick and sticky. This was it. The moment. She was going to approach Jordan. She was going to say something cool. Something normal. Something like...

"Hey, Jordan."

Smooth. Maya internally high-fived herself for not tripping over her own feet.

Jordan turned. His eyes met hers. "Maya, right? From AP Chem?"

"Yeah. That's me. Chemistry wizard."

Why did she say that.

Hannah suddenly appeared behind Maya like she'd apparated, phone raised. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need Maya for something super urgent. Girl stuff."

She dragged Maya away by the elbow. Once they were safely behind The Palm of Doom, she lowered her voice. "Did you see Jordan's story? He just posted a picture of a zombie makeup tutorial. He's into horror stuff. That's your IN."

Maya looked back at Jordan. He was alone again, checking his phone. His palms looked kind of sweaty too.

"Or," Maya said, "I could just go talk to him about literally anything else. Like a normal person."

Hannah gasped. "Bold strategy."

Maya walked back over, her heart hammering. "Hey, Jordan. This is gonna sound random, but do you like horror movies? Because I've been wanting to watch that new zombie apocalypse thing, but none of my friends are into it."

Jordan's face lit up. "Dude. Yes. I was literally just looking at showtimes."

"Cool."

"Cool."

They stood there for a second. Then Maya's phone buzzed—Hannah, obviously spying from across the yard: TOLD YOU. ORANGE. ZOMBIE. MANIFESTING.

Maya slipped her phone into her pocket. She wasn't a zombie anymore. She was just a girl with sweaty palms, talking to a boy who liked horror movies. And that, she decided, was absolutely fine.