Zombie Summer, Wide Awake

The baseball glove sat in the corner of my room like a guilty conscience. Mom and Dad dropped fifty bucks on it last Christmas, expecting me to join the team this spring. Instead, I'd been hiding in my room, watching YouTube tutorials on digital art while my friends texted me about tryouts I'd blown off.

"You going to Maya's party tonight?" My little sister leaned against my doorframe, palm already outstretched. "Only if you spot me twenty for snacks. Mom's on that budget kick again."

"Nice try, loser." I tossed a crumpled five at her. "I'm not going. Too much homework."

"Liar." She caught it mid-air. "You've been MIA since winter break. Even Jonah thinks you're ghosting him."

She wasn't wrong. I'd been moving through days like a zombie, barely there, just surviving each class until I could retreat into my sketchbook again. What nobody understood—what I couldn't explain—was that ever since I'd realized I might be gay back in January, everything felt different. The guys' locker room jokes made my stomach knot. The way everyone talked about Maya's party made me feel like I was underwater, watching from the surface while everyone else breathed easy.

The Saturday morning of the party, I ended up at the park anyway. Jonah had dragged me there for pickup games since we were kids, but I hadn't picked up a bat in months. Found him and some guys from school already playing, shouting and diving for catches like nothing had changed.

"Marco!" Jonah waved from the pitcher's mound. "Cruz needs a sub. You're up."

Something in me snapped. Maybe it was the baseball glove burning a hole in my conscience. Maybe I was just tired of feeling like a zombie. So I grabbed a bat, stepped up to the plate, and swung at the first pitch like my life depended on it.

Crack. The ball soared past the outfielders.

"YEAH!" Jonah whooped. "That's what I'm talking about!"

But I wasn't thinking about baseball anymore. I was thinking about how much energy I'd spent hiding, how exhausting it was to hold my breath underwater all these months. After the game, sweaty and adrenaline buzzing, I found myself at Maya's house that night.

The cable was out, so someone had hooked up a projector to play zombie movies on the garage wall. Kids were scattered on lawn chairs and concrete, passing chips and daring each other to drink from this suspicious red Solo cup setup. Maya found me near the back, handing me a water bottle like she knew exactly what I needed.

"Haven't seen you since, what, December?" She bumped my shoulder. "You good?"

"Yeah." I twisted the bottle cap. "Just... figuring stuff out."

"We all are." She leaned in closer. "You know AJ thinks you're avoiding him because you think he knows?"

My stomach dropped. "Knows what?"

"That you're gay, duh." Maya rolled her eyes. "Nobody cares, Marco. We just want our friend back."

I stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "You—you know?"

"Bro." She snorted. "You literally draw fan art of K-drama actors in your free time. It's not exactly subtle."

The laugh that burst out of me felt like breaking the surface after holding my breath underwater. Behind me, Jonah shouted something about the zombie movie being totally unrealistic, but I barely heard him. For the first time in months, I wasn't hiding. I wasn't underwater. I was just there, palm pressed against the concrete wall, finally breathing easy.

"Yo Marco!" Jonah waved from the projector. "Cable's back on, but zombie movie night continues. You in?"

"Yeah." I pushed off the wall, grinning. "Yeah, I'm in."