Orange Float at the Zombie Party

The pool party was alreadylit when Maya arrived, but honestly, she felt more dead than alive. Everyone was doing that new zombie walk challenge for TikTok—shuffling around the pool with blank stares and outstretched arms. Maya clutched her iphone like a lifeline, thumbs hovering over the screen, trying to decide if she should just join in or maintain her dignity and stay on the边缘.

Her golden retriever, Buster, had followed her to the gate and was now whining pitifully from behind the fence. "Same, Buster," she muttered. "Same."

The backyard was packed with kids from school, all zombie-walking and recording each other. Someone's orange pool float shaped like a giant slice of pizza drifted aimlessly in the water, abandoned as its owner joined the horde. Maya spotted Jordan, the guy she'd been lowkey crushing on since freshman year, standing near the snack bar and looking just as awkward as she felt.

"You doing the zombie thing?" Jordan asked, gesturing at the chaos with his red solo cup.

"Nah," Maya said, surprising herself. "I think I'm over it. It's kinda played out, don't you think?"

Jordan grinned. "Thank god. I was just thinking the same thing. Everyone's acting like literal NPCs."

They ended up sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water, while the zombie apocalypse raged around them. They talked about real stuff—how weird it was that everyone was obsessed with going viral, how they both secretly hated their AP classes, how Jordan's dog had eaten his homework twice this semester and the teacher still didn't believe him.

"You know," Maya said, watching a group of zombie-walking freshmen stumble into the deep end, "sometimes I feel like we're all just sleepwalking through high school. Like, we're doing all these things because that's what you're supposed to do, but nobody's actually thinking about what they want."

Jordan nodded slowly. "That's deep, though. Like, actually deep. Not TikTok deep."

Maya pulled out her iphone and opened the camera. "You know what? Let's make our own thing. Not for clout, just for us."

They recorded themselves jumping into the pool together, fully clothed, screaming something unintelligible. It was messy and authentic and completely uncurated. Later that night, Maya would watch it and realize she didn't care if it got zero likes or a million.

As she walked home with Buster trotting happily beside her, Maya felt something shift inside. Maybe growing up meant figuring out which zombies you actually wanted to join—and which ones you were better off walking away from.