I walked out of first period feeling as dead as ever. It's a hot August, and my jeans don't help. My cold hands make my body feel like two seasons at once. My backpack is heavy, and every time I step, it smacks my backbone and makes my head twitch. My eyedrops make my eyes sting. My moisturizer makes my skin feel slimy (even though it's not). 

I wish I could just be myself in public. The Winnapi that can wear shorts and let her shin bone show. The Winnapi that doesn't have to do the drops to make the blue tinge to her eyes dissappear. The Winnapi that can let her dead skin be dead so she didn't feel like a walking slug. The zombie Winnapi. 

I love being a zombie, it has a bunch of pros. Like how my stomach can't handle vegetables (even though it can't handle really anything except for the pills and... well...). Or how I can blame my forgetfulness on my four-times-too-small brain (even though I can't remember most things anyway...). Or how I can't go to the doctor because the only zombie specialist is in Boston and lives underground. That one almost sucks.

But I would love to be human. So I could run without Zombie Lock (when my joints lock in place from periods of two minutes to three hours at a time) getting in my way. Or I could eat nachos (I've always wanted to try nachos. They look so good-). Or I could sleep over at a friend's house. I've never been able to sleep over for three reasons. One, I have no friends (yet!!!). Two, I have to do my pills and inhaler and moisturizer and drops at night, too, and it looks weird when I do it. And, finally, my parents are really over protective and wouldn't let me go to restaurants with them and my brothers when I was little because I wouldn't be able to eat. 

Oh, right. I have two brothers, Tirrio (17) and Ippen (9). Just FYI.

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"Hey!" someone said next to me as I opened my locker. "We're locker neighbors!"

I turned to see a girl with sharp green eyes and long red hair. She held out her hand. 

"I'm Moriah, but everyone calls me Mo." She smiles. I shake her hand slowly.

"I'm Winnapi. Everyone calls me-" I think for a moment. "Well, no one really calls me anything. I don't know a lot of people."

Mo nods. "Well, then, I will call you Winnie!" she says in a fake carnival barker voice. I smile. I love my nickname.

We start talking. Our class schedules are similar, we have math, geography, and Latin together. 

As we talk, we walk. Soon, the bell rings for second, which is math. Mo takes off in an even sprint down the hall. She stops when she sees I'm not next to her. She motions for me to join her.

"Cmon, Winnie! We need to run!"

Those words hurt me like a stab in the chest. I stop walking all together and look at my old, red Adidas.

"Are- are you 'kay?" Mo runs over.

"I-" I sigh. "I can't run. Never have, never will."

Mo sighs back and pats my back. I just know she's gonna run off withou-

"Let's walk, then."

And we did.