Zombie State of Mind

Maya stood outside the house, gripping her iPhone like a lifeline. The bass from inside thumped against her chest. She could see flashlights of Snapchat stories being recorded through the front window. This was it—the first party of sophomore year, and she was literally vibrating with anxiety.

She adjusted her dad's vintage trucker hat, pulling the brim low. It was her security blanket, her I'm-cool-and-mysterious prop. Plus, it covered the fact that she hadn't washed her hair.

"You got this," she whispered to herself. "Be normal. Be chill. Do not be weird."

Inside, the air smelled like cheap body spray and pizza. Someone handed her a red cup, and she pretended to sip while her brain went full zombie mode—dead eyes, stiff movements, zero thoughts except survive survive survive. She scrolled through her phone, feigning a Very Important Text, anything to avoid actual conversation.

Then she saw him: Liam, her lab partner, her massive crush since September. He was across the room, laughing with his friends, looking effortless and gorgeous and completely unbotainable.

Maya's stomach did that awful flip thing. She turned away too fast, backing straight into the snack table. Her elbow caught a bowl of spinach dip, which went everywhere—down her shirt, splattering her jeans, somehow even getting inside her hat brim. Green. Everywhere. On her white shirt. In her hair.

The room went silent.

Someone giggled. Then someone else. Maya felt her face burning hotter than a thousand suns. This was it. The end. Her social life, over. She would have to change her name and move to Antarctica.

But then Liam was there, handing her napkins, not laughing. "Dude, that was epic," he said, grinning. "You literally attacked that dip. It had it coming."

Maya stared at him. He wasn't making fun of her. He was... being nice?

"Spinach is my enemy now," she said, and it came out weirdly shaky.

"Let me help you clean up," Liam offered, and suddenly they were in the bathroom while she scrubbed spinach from her favorite jeans, and they were talking, actually talking, about bio class and how their teacher was a zombie and how much they both hated group projects.

Later, as she walked home with her hat properly cleaned and her phone full of new messages from Liam, Maya realized something: being a zombie was safe, but living through the awkward, messy moments? That was actually way better.