Zombie State of Mind

Maya dragged herself into first period with her NYU hoodie pulled low, operating on three hours of sleep and whatever构成了 a functional heartbeat. Junior year had turned her into a certified zombie — hollow eyes, zero personality, surviving solely on iced coffee and spite.

"You look like death," observed Trinity, her ride-or-die since sixth grade, sliding into the desk beside her. "Rough night?"

"Rough life," Maya muttered. "My parents want me to visit some college prep program this weekend. I'm not mentally prepared for more future-planning talk."

The weekend arrived faster than she'd anticipated. Her dad dropped her off at her cousin Jasmine's place in the suburbs, where the air smelled different — like grass and possibility, instead of exhaust and anxiety.

Jasmine was everything Maya wasn't: confident, athletic, with that effortless swagger that made people gravitate toward her. "We're going to Tyler's party tonight," Jasmine announced, scrolling through her phone. "You're coming."

"I don't do parties," Maya protested automatically. "I literally have zero social battery left."

"You'll have fun. Besides, his family owns that farm with the bulls — you know, the ones that escaped last month and went viral on TikTok?"

Maya perked up. "The ones that chased the mail carrier?"

"Those are the ones." Jasmine winked. "Bet you five bucks you can't get a selfie with one."

The party was exactly what Maya dreaded — loud music, red cups, people she didn't know. She planted herself in the kitchen, which was basically a shrine to teenage hostess culture: charcuterie boards, a suspiciously large fruit arrangement, and a cooler of something she definitely wasn't drinking.

That's when she saw him across the room. Lucas, from her AP History class, looking unfairly good in a flannel that should've been illegal. Her zombie heart did something uncharacteristic — like, actual beats.

"Hey," he said, suddenly beside her. "Hiding too?"

Maya's brain short-circuited. "Um. I'm just — admiring the fruit selection."

Smooth. So smooth.

Lucas laughed, and it was this warm, genuine sound that made her chest feel weird. "The papaya's actually good. My aunt grows them.

He reached for a piece of the bright orange fruit. "You want to try?"

"Never had it," Maya admitted.

"First time for everything," Lucas said, holding out a wedge. His fingers brushed hers, and her skin literally ignited. "It's like... if mango and melon had a baby, but more interesting."

Maya took a bite. The flavor exploded — tropical, slightly musky, completely unlike anything she'd tasted before. "Okay, that's... actually really good."

"Told you." Lucas leaned against the counter, close enough that she could smell his cologne. "So, I've been meaning to ask — did you finish that history essay? I was stuck on the part about industrialization."

They talked for twenty minutes straight — about history, about music, about how junior year felt like one long anxiety attack. Maya wasn't a zombie anymore. She was just... herself, but better.

"Hey!" Jasmine appeared, looking chaotic but happy. "Some of the bulls got out again — Tyler's dad is freaking out. You guys want to come watch?"

Maya looked at Lucas, who was already shrugging into his jacket. "Why not?"

They ended up in a field behind the house, watching three massive bulls wander around like they owned the place. Someone's phone flashlight caught them grazing peacefully, completely unbothered by the chaos they'd caused.

"They're kind of majestic," Maya said, the cool night air washing over her. "In a terrifying way."

"Life goals," Lucas replied. "Be the bull."

Maya laughed — really laughed, for the first time in months. As Lucas's hand brushed hers again, she realized something important: she wasn't dead inside. She was just waking up.

And sometimes, it took escaping bulls, exotic fruit, and a cute boy in flannel to remind you that being undead was temporary — but being alive? That was forever.