Pool Party Zombies

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The cable dangling from the pool house caught his ankle, nearly sending him face-first into the water. Smooth. Definitely smooth.

"Yo Marcus!" Jake yelled from the deep end, splashing water everywhere like an overexcited golden retriever. "Get in here!"

Marcus's grandma's ancient beagle, Buster, chose that moment to escape the house and sprint toward the pool, barking his head off. The chase was on.

After five minutes of chasing the dog through Mrs. Henderson's prize-winning rose garden, Marcus returned sweaty, grass-stained, and socially mortified. Perfect timing—everyone was watching.

Then he saw her. Chloe. The girl he'd been crushing on since seventh grade was actually swimming toward him, water cascading down her arms.

"Hey," she said, treading water. "You coming in?"

Marcus's brain short-circuited. "Uh, yeah. Just gotta..."

What happened next was a blur. His foot caught that same stupid cable. He went down hard. Face-first. Into three inches of shallow pool water.

The world went muffled. His vision swam. He lay there, vaguely aware of people screaming his name, feeling like a zombie rising from the grave—clumsy, confused, and absolutely dead inside from embarrassment.

Chloe was pulling him up before he could process anything. "Marcus! Oh my god, are you okay?" Her hands were on his shoulders. Her eyes were huge with concern.

He wiped chlorinated water from his face. "I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just tragically uncoordinated."

She laughed. Actually laughed. Not mean-girl laughter, but real laughter, like she thought he was funny on purpose.

"You know," she said, helping him limp to the side of the pool, "that cable's been tripping people all summer. You're like the fifth person today."

"Seriously?"

"Swear to god." She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made his chest feel weird. "I'm Chloe, by the way."

"Marcus." He paused. "I know. We've been in bio together for like, two years."

Her face lit up. "No way! The guy who always sits in the back?"

"That's me. The back-of-the-classroom zombie."

"Dude," Jake called from the pool, "if you're done flirting, Marcus's dog is eating Mrs. Henderson's roses again."

Marcus and Chloe locked eyes. Then they were both running, laughing together, chasing one very bad dog through the neighborhood, and Marcus thought maybe high school wouldn't be so bad after all.