Zombies Don't Wear Snapbacks

The hat was everything. A black snapback pulled low, blocking out the fluorescent lights, the judgment, the possibility of eye contact. Leo moved through the hallway like a zombie—hoodie up, headphones blasting music he wasn't even listening to, giving off that distinctive dead-inside vibe that said approach at your own risk.

"Dude, you look like you haven't slept since finals week," said Maya, slapping his shoulder with enough force to knock him into a locker. "You good?"

"Yeah," Leo mumbled. "Just tired."

Total bull. The truth? His palms were sweating, heart hammering a rhythm that definitely wasn't chill. Tonight was Jordan's party. Everyone. Going. And Leo? Leo had been practicing conversations in his mirror for three days and still sounded like a malfunctioning AI.

At lunch, Zara sat across from him, flicking through TikTok. "So, you're coming, right?"

"I don't know—"

"Don't pull that crap." She looked up, dead serious. "You've been hiding under that hat since September. Tonight's the night you actually show up."

Leo's stomach twisted. "What if I say something stupid?"

"Then you say something stupid." Zara shrugged. "We all do. Jordan called someone 'fam' seven times in one sentence yesterday. Cringe was off the charts, but nobody cared."

That night, Leo stood outside Jordan's door for what felt like forever. Palms sweating. Heart pounding. Could still bail. Could still go home, scroll through Reddit, pretend this never happened.

Then the door opened. Jordan stood there, grinning. "Yo! You made it!"

"Yeah," Leo said. "Yeah, I made it."

He didn't take off the hat—not yet. Baby steps. But for the first time in months, the zombie feeling faded. He was actually there. Present. Alive.

Maybe that was enough for now.