Pool Party Apocalypse

I was dead. Literally functioning on zero sleep after spending all night doom-scrolling, but here I was, standing at the deep end of Jessica Martinez's pool, my pale body on full display like some raw **zombie** clawing its way out of a grave. The sun beat down on me like it had a personal vendetta, and somewhere in the distance, a Drake song thumped against my already-pounding headache.

"You good, bro?" Marcus asked, paddling over. He was my oldest **friend**, the kind who'd known me since my awkward middle school braces phase, back when I'd somehow managed to make every social interaction cringe-worthy enough to haunt my dreams.

"Never been better," I lied. "Just channeling my inner corpse."

Marcus laughed. "You realize you're actually **swimming** right now, right? Like, you're in the pool. Moving."

I looked down. Oh. I was.

"Your mom made those spinach wraps again," Marcus continued, because he had zero concept of social subtlety. "You got—" He gestured vaguely at his own teeth.

I froze. Every single person in this entire pool party had watched me walk around with green shreds stuck in my braces for forty-five minutes. Forty-five. Minutes. This wasn't just embarrassing; this was the kind of trauma that required years of therapy. I'd been vibing, thinking I was being all mysterious and brooding, when really I'd been a walking salad advertisement.

"Why are you like this?" I hissed, splashing water at him.

"I'm literally helping you avoid permanent social destruction," he said, dodging. "Besides, look who just showed up."

Jessica appeared at the pool's edge, holding this ridiculous plastic bag. "Hey! Who wants to win my **goldfish**?"

Her family was moving, apparently, and this fish needed a home. The way everyone perked up made me realize how weird teenagers actually were. We'd willingly adopt a creature that lived in a glass prison just because someone offered it for free.

"I'll take it," I heard myself say, because clearly I was glutton for punishment today.

Marcus stared at me. "Dude. You can barely keep yourself alive."

"Exactly," I said. "This fish and I? We're gonna be iconic." And somehow, in that moment, with spinach-free teeth and a new aquatic responsibility I wasn't remotely prepared for, the zombie apocalypse inside my head finally quieted down.

Maybe high school wasn't so terrifying after all. Or maybe I was just delirious. Either way, I'd take it.