Zombies at Sunrise

I was basically a zombie. Third consecutive all-nighter finishing AP World History, surviving on energy drinks and sheer panic. My dad's golden retriever, Buster, nudged my leg with his wet nose, sensing I was about to faceplant into my pancakes.

"You going to Maya's padel tournament?" Mom asked, way too cheerful for 7 AM.

I groaned. Padel—that tennis-meets-squash sport all the cool kids played. Maya had been bugging me to come watch her compete for weeks. She'd even given me the whole "it'd mean a lot if you were there" speech, which is basically universal teen code for "I like you, please notice me."

"Fine," I mumbled, already regretting it.

The community rec center was packed. I spotted Maya immediately—she was wearing this bright pink headband, bouncing on her toes like she'd mainlined caffeine. Her opponent was this guy from Northwood High who looked like he stepped out of a teen drama, all confident smirk and perfect hair. Great.

Then I saw it. Outside the courts, someone had set up this weird sphinx statue for the "Egyptian Festival" happening next week. Its stone face stared blankly at the padel courts, like it was questioning all our life choices. I stood there, half-dead from sleep deprivation, wondering how I'd ended up here—watching the girl I'd been crushing on since seventh grade while a sphinx statue judged my entire existence.

Buster would've laughed if he could see me now.

Maya's match was intense. She dove for shots, hair flying, completely focused. When she finally won, she looked around frantically, spotted me, and her face lit up like actual sunshine. She ran over, still breathless, sweat dripping down her forehead.

"You came!" She tackled me in a hug, completely not caring that I was wearing my grungiest hoodie.

"Told you I would," I said, trying to play it cool but probably failing.

"You look terrible, by the way. Like, cute-terrible. But terrible."

"Zombie mode," I admitted. "Totally worth it though."

She grinned. "Wanna get breakfast? I'm starving, and you look like you need actual food."

"Thought you'd never ask."