Zombies Don't Dance at Parties

The bass thumped through Maya's chest like a second heartbeat. She pressed herself against the wall, palms sweating so much she thought they might actually slide right off her hands. First house party. Worst idea ever.

Her best friend Lily had abandoned her thirty seconds after walking through the door, leaving Maya to fend for herself like a freshly spawned character in a zombie apocalypse—confused, unarmed, and definitely about to die.

She spotted Lily across the room, laughing with Tyler. Some friend.

Maya's phone buzzed. *mom: U okay? Need me to pick u up?*

She typed *no I'm good* with thumbs that betrayed her. She wasn't good. She was a zombie—dead inside, still moving somehow.

Then she saw it.

On a shelf sat a small stuffed bear. Build-A-Bear style, with a tag that said "JASON" in bubbly third-grade handwriting.

Jason—the varsity quarterback hosting this party—still had his childhood bear on display like it was totally normal.

Something in Maya's chest loosened.

She watched Jason across the room, all confident and cool, and realized everyone here was faking it. Tyler trying too hard to be funny. Lily pretending not to notice Maya standing alone like a total loser.

Maya felt like a spy who'd just uncovered the best secret ever. Even the cool kids weren't actually cool.

Her palm found her phone. *Lily: I'm leaving.*

*Wait what? I'm coming with*

*No stay with Tyler.*

*No you're my best friend. I'm literally coming. Don't leave.*

Maya smiled. Maybe friendship wasn't about who stood by you when things were easy. Maybe it was about who'd leave their crush to walk home with you.

As they stepped outside, Lily linked her arm through Maya's. "That party was a zombie apocalypse anyway."

"Zombies have better social skills," Maya said.

They walked into the night, two zombies who'd somehow found each other, bearing witness to the fact that sometimes the worst parties lead to the best conversations.