Zombies at the Pyramid

Maya felt like a **zombie** walking through the halls of Northwood High. Three hours of sleep after finishing that AP History paper would do that to you. The social **pyramid** of high school loomed over everything — cheerleaders at the top, band members somewhere in the middle, and everyone else just trying to survive.

"Maya! Wait up!" Jesse called, **running** to catch her at her locker. "You coming to Jake's pool party tonight?"

She hesitated. Jake's **pool** parties were legendary — the kind where the popular kids actually talked to the regular ones. But last time, someone had commented on her "健康 teacher swimsuit," and she'd spent the rest of the night hiding in the bathroom.

"I don't know, Jesse. I still have that math—"

"Oh come ON!" He grinned. "I dare you. If you don't come, I'm telling everyone you still eat **spinach** out of a can like when we were seven."

Maya's face burned. That was ONE time, and she'd been obsessed with Popeye cartoons.

"That was seven years ago!"

"So prove it. Come tonight. 7 PM. Wear something cool."

Something shifted in Maya's chest. Maybe it was the zombie-fueled delirium, or maybe she was just done feeling invisible. She found herself at the party that night, standing by the pool in her favorite vintage tee — the one with the galaxy print she'd thrifted last summer.

Jake waved at her from the diving board. "Hey! Maya, right? You're that fast runner from track."

The pyramid suddenly felt different. Not like a wall, but like something she could climb.

"Yeah," she said, diving into the pool with a splash that soaked half the popular kids. "That's me."

They laughed. Someone cranked the music. And somewhere in the chaos, Maya realized zombies didn't have to stay dead — they just had to wake up.